I try not to laugh as Bridget mutters under her breath. Waiting for her to hail the cab, I take a look at the bustling city of London, people of all sorts going on about their lives. Not one of them knowing about the secret world hidden within their own. So many muggles absolutely clueless about the war with You Know Who. Completely unaware that dragons and giants and centaurs and house elves inhabited their world. Oblivious to the fact that vampires, werewolves, and boggarts lurked in the darkness. It always makes me feel a little odd, when I start thinking how I could just as easily have been a muggle, clueless to the nature of the world. I'm glad I'm not. Sometimes I wonder if the Ministry of Magic shouldn't just let people know the true nature of their own world. They all live in it, after all.
I slide into the cab that Bridget hails, sitting at the left as she slips in next to me. I arch an eyebrow as the cab driver seems to completely ignore her, but before I can say anything, Bridget makes her point. I manage to hold back a snort of laughter as she places the money on the empty seat instead of giving it to him.
"sexist jerk," I hear her mutter. I nod in agreement. I'm startled as suddenly Bridget asks "what's this" and proceeds to lift what little sleeve there is on my arm. I gaze down at my shoulder, then catch her eye.
"It's. Well. It means that, though part of me died with my family, I am reborn a new person. Through the ashes of my loss, I rise anew, a light in my own personal darkness. The forest represents the afterlife. I'm heading towards it, but until I actually reach it, I'm watching, keeping the memories of my loved ones in my heart." I answer. I close my eyes, and I can see them. And I feel the hatred building into my heart. But I also feel some comfort at Bridget's fingers on my arm. It helps quell the figurative flames within, and part of me wonders if I'm going to burn to hot that there are no ashes left to rise from.
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