Broken School had been let out for Christmas and Malikhi was ecstatic. While he liked Sonora and learning new spells and he’d made some good friends, he missed his Mum and Dad and he was looking forward to spending the holidays with his family. According to the last letter that he’d received from his mother, they would be staying in America with his Aunt Delilah rather than making the long journey home to their house in London, England. This was fine with Malikhi. As long as there was a tree, presents and his Mum and Dad, he’d knew that he’d have a good time and he quite liked his Aunt. She liked to laugh, just like he did.
His father had picked him up from the Wizarding Transportation Centre, explaining that his mother was busy cooking and baking ready for his return. This fact made Malikhi grin. Something in his gut told him that his mother would be making his favourite dessert - profiteroles - and the thought made him lick his lips in anticipation. His mother’s cooking was the best.
He clambered into the back of his father’s car - if there was one thing his muggle father couldn’t stand, it was wizarding methods of transportation. He preferred to remain with his feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much. Brendan couldn’t understand how wizards were able to cope with relying getting from one destination to another by using something that was typically reserved for household cleaning or getting covered in ash and soot from using the fireplace. He wasn’t even going to think about the concept of apparition.
The journey was going to be a long one so Malikhi made himself comfortable in the back seat and took the opportunity to chat to his Dad about Sonora. He knew that his father could really only give him one-word answers or non-committal noises as he was both concentrating on driving and not understanding half the things his son was talking about anyway. He had no idea as to what purpose his son would need to know how to create a food that influenced people’s emotions nor did he understand the usefulness of transfiguring a pebble into a button. If he’d popped a button off his shirt, he’d go find a new one and sew it on. He wouldn’t bother with all this pebble transforming nonsense.
It wasn’t that Brendan was disdainful of magic or the Wizarding World. He was very grateful to know about it as it was a part of his wife and he’d seen some incredible things as a result. He just thought that, sometimes, wizards over complicated matters and thought too much about things when, really, the answer was sometimes extraordinarily simple. He was happy being a muggle. Being a wizard sounded like it would take far too much time thinking. However, his son Malikhi seemed happy enough about everything so he kept his thoughts to himself.
“And, I made a friend called Evelyn!” Malikhi cheered from the back seat, his grin stretching from ear-to-ear as he thought about his friend. He was still a bit unhappy about the fact that she would be staying at Ness’s over the Christmas holidays but at least she wouldn’t be in harm’s way with her own father. Thinking about her made Malikhi feel all warm inside. “She’s great, Dad. I think you’d like her.”
“I’m sure I would, son,” Brendan responded absentmindedly from the front seat. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic lights to change from red to green. When, they finally did, he accelerated the car to drive across the junction when, from somewhere to his left, he could hear the sound of screeching tires and a roaring engine. His head turned just in time to see the car speeding through the red light and it collided into the side of the car.
Malikhi would’ve screamed if the air from his lungs hadn’t been forced out as his body was jerked around in his seat. The windows on the right side of the car had smashed, the glass blown inwards and as Malikhi tried to find something to grip, he felt the shards piercing his skin. The world seemed to rolling and, in a brief moment of horror, Malikhi realised that it wasn’t the world but the car. Lights swirled like catherine wheels, all the colours blending together in one sickening whirl and Malikhi felt very much like he was going to vomit. He felt his head hit metal and his vision blurred. When everything stopped, all Malikhi could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat and see the darkness crawling in at the corner of his eyes.
He succumbed to it.
***
Malikhi’s eyelids felt very heavy and it felt like a struggle to open them, almost like they had been glued shut. There was a ringing in his head and it was annoying and painful and didn’t seem to stop no matter how much he tried to will it to - there was also an incessant and rhythmic beeping somewhere nearby. He tried to move his hand but all he could seem to do was twitch his fingers. It was then that he realised that he couldn’t move it as a result of someone clutching it tightly, so tightly it was as if they were worried that he’d slip from their grasp if they loosened the hold even slightly. Everything hurt, nothing felt right. Malikhi didn’t feel like Malikhi anymore.
Minutes - or maybe it was hours - seemed to pass before he managed to crack open his eyes, wincing and inhaling sharply as the light above burned his eyes.
“Too… bright…”
His throat felt rough and dry, his voice hardly any louder than a whisper and raspy. He needed water.
His fingers twitched again, this time more obviously and the person holding it seemed to stir and there was a yawn before they seemed to realise that he was actually awake.
“Malikhi?” the voice was his woman’s and it took a minute before his brain supplied that it was, in fact, his mother’s voice. She sounded worried, fearful and her hand was suddenly gripping his own much tighter. What had he done? Was he in trouble? Why did everything hurt? “Malikhi, sweetie, are you awake?”
“Mum…” he wheezed, his face screwing up in pain. “Wat...er.”
Speaking seemed to become harder and, for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could be understood when he felt her move away and heard the sound of a tap running. She was back in mere moments and then Malikhi felt her gentle hand helping him lift his head and then there was plastic touching his split and cracked lips and his mouth opened automatically and then he was drinking and it felt divine, the coolness of the water soothing his raw throat. It was only as the water washed through his mouth, touched his tongue and slipped down his throat that he realised just how thirsty he was. How long had it been since he’d had something to drink? What about something to eat? Also, where was he?
When he’d drunk his fill, his mother gently helped his head fall back onto the soft pillow that acted as support and he decided that he should try opening his eyes again. Slowly, he opened them a crack, letting light filter in, in small doses. When he managed to fully open them, his vision itself was blurry, everything looking very watery and fluid, colours blending together and absolutely nothing was recognisable. He blinked once, twice and then a few more times and steadily, the scene around him became clearer and into focus.
He wasn’t in his room.
He wasn’t even in his Aunt Delilah’s house, which was where he was pretty sure he was supposed to be.
Confused, he moved his head to look around. He was… in a hospital?
Finally, his eyes found his Mum, who was watching him with wide, tearful eyes. She didn’t seem to blink at all, almost as if she was afraid to. What had happened? He remembered being in a car with his Dad…
“Dad!” he tried to cry out but his voice came out strangled and fire lit up his throat, still not ready for such a volume or force. Everything hit him like a bullet, being picked up from the wizarding transportation centre, being in the back of the car, talking about Sonora and then rolling and rolling, the crunch of metal, his own scream. He tried to sit up, looking for his father.
“Malikhi, Malikhi, sweetheart,” his mother was on her feet, her warm hands gently trying to push him back onto the bed. Everything in his body screamed in agony. “Malikhi, don’t move, please.”
His mother’s voice had cracked. He could hear a sob threatening to leave her and his eyes searched her face. A horrible, dark and cold feeling gripped his soul. He didn’t know why but he knew something bad had happened. No, not bad. Worse than bad. World-ending. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to his next question for, judging by the state of his mother, it was sure to be one that he wouldn’t like.
“Mum…” he murmured, keeping his dark brown eyes focused on her, taking in her appearance. She looked so different from the woman he knew, her blonde hair limp and greasy, scraped back into a haphazard bun. Dark circles surrounded her red-rimmed eyes with didn’t seem quite so bright anymore, something missing from within them. She was wearing a dark blue jumper that was a few sizes too big and seemed to swallow her small frame whole. His Dad’s jumper. “Where’s Dad?”
Tears began to roll from her eyes and she pressed a hand to her mouth, the other gripping his own. “Oh, Malikhi… Your Dad…” she whimpered, trying in vain to stop her tears. The sobs wracked through her body and Malikhi felt her hand trembling. Something was very, very wrong. This was a very bad dream, a nightmare that he couldn't seem to wake up from. Fear building in his stomach made him feel like he was about to throw up. “T-there was an accident and you Dad… H-he…” she sobbed harder. “H-he didn’t make it…”
What did that mean? Dad didn’t make what? “What?”
“Malikhi, sweetheart…” she looked at him and Malikhi had never seen his mother look so small and fragile. “Your Dad died…”