"Little Dave was standing in front of his mother, Meelka, fending off Voldemort." I regret not having more pictures of Dave. I never felt the need to. But I don’t need a photograph, Dave, I can never forget you.


Downstairs, I was watching the road in front of the house, another tiring, but uneventful day. And that’s when I heard it. A loud meowing. It was nothing like I had heard before. Meelka was looking up at me, at my feet, as though beckoning me, telling me to follow her, telling me that something had happened…

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