I'm so bored that I made this. I sent it to my teacher as well as a punishment because I promised her to write an essay. so, here I present to you, "The Existence"
The Existanceby: NadeerahIt was in a small cottage at the edge of Linderhogg where Peverall Peveter shut the ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ after he had spent the rest of his sleeping time reading it. He looked at the clock when it stroked 5 o’clock in the morning. Peverall Peveter was a ten-year-old boy who had brownish black hair and a pair of green eyes. He had average body and his birthmark on his left shoulder looked like burnt skin. Peverall could hear the crickets sang and the cock started to shout cock-a-doodle doo, waking up the early birds. He tried to close his eyes when he figured out that he only had a little time to sleep before he had to wake up and doing his daily routine but, he could not. He could feel the chilly air that moved into his small room through the window that he left open. He kept thinking about the world of witches and wizards that the famous author had created.
“What if the world really exists?” Peverall asked himself while looking outside the window, gazing drowsily at the moon.
“…and I had walked pass the wizards that hid their real identity in this muggle world several times?” he continued to let his imagination ran wild.
“What if I’m a wizard? My name is almost the same with Harry Potter’s ancestor name, Peverell except for the spelling is different…”he mumbled until he felt asleep.
Peverall Peveter had been an avid fan of the Harry Potter series. Of course he could not afford to buy one because Mrs. Peveter was a maid and Mr. Peveter died several years ago when Peverall was three years of age, in a car accident, according to what his mother told. His father worked as a driver and when the accident happened, he was on his way from sending twelve-year-old Josh McBurn to school. His great grandfather had served the McBurn family long time ago and since then, it was like the job was inherited from generation by generation. They even lived in a decrepit little cottage provided by the McBurn when they no longer could pay the price to rent a house. And the book. It was given to him by a kind bookstore owner, Mr. Bloom.
Mr. McKenzie Bloom was a skinny old man yet he had muscular arms. He said he used to work in the army. He had a pair of brown eyes with some wrinkles on his face and his hair was brown. He was a lonely man. He had two sons of his own but when they grew up, they fled to another country, leaving him with a thought that he could manage living by selling books. They were absolutely right about that but he missed them so much nonetheless he never got phone calls or letters or postcards from any of them. He then met Peverall Peveter. He could still remember the first time when he met Little Peverall outside his bookstore, staring to the bookshelves. He was seven. Mr. Bloom knew his grandfather as Mr. Larry Peveter used to helping him. He invited the poor boy in, chatted with him and he fall for his talkativeness and his cheerful spirit. The boy brought joy in his life and so, he treated him like his own grandchildren-he never knew if he had one.
Mrs. Peveter was to splash a glass of water on Peverall when he said, “I’m awake, mom and I still can bathe on my own.”
He quickly woke up, gave his mom a smile before he kissed her on her cheek and grabbed his towel to the bathroom.
“Pev, you know that we had a lot of things to do at the McBurn’s. The lawn has to be mowed, the flowers have to be watered and you are the one, who’s going to do that.”
She did not mean to be strict to Peverall and she hoped Peverall knew. He knew. She wanted him to go to school, liked all boys and girls of his age did but the earnings she got from being a maid at the McBurn was enough to pay their food expense, electricity bills and water bills. She should get more money for her and Pev’s job but Mrs. Munion McBurn insisted that some of her earnings should be deducted as the rent of the cottage. Mrs. Peveter had nothing left to say as she knew that was not worth to argue for. She thought that it was fine because she still had a place to call home, job for their living and she had Pev. The sunken-faced woman with frizzy hair loved the boy so much even though he wasn’t his real son. That’s the fact and there were a lot of secrets beneath. The secret that could only be told to him when the time had come.
He was passing through the backyard of Mrs. Janet Hermington; the stern-looking-faced of mid-aged woman with her hair was half white, on his way to the bookstore. He passed by the place quickly and quietly, not to trouble him if he would probably met her knitting on her chair. He hated it when she caught him on her backyard- it was the fastest way, the shortcut to Mr. Bloom’s. She would grumble and look straight into his eyes as if she would eat him alive, calling him nuisance. He hated that look very much as he hated the grumpy woman. He had to be there fast since he promised the old man to be a Good Samaritan with boxes of newly arrived books and he was late. That was all thanked to Josh McBurn. He had no idea why Josh liked to pick up on him. He intentionally troubled him with something to repair when he knew Peverall wanted to leave the place as soon as he finished his job.
“Now what…” he murmured when he saw Mrs. Hermington was really there, standing in front of two boys. He could hear her loud voice hauling over the coals.
Peverall was attempting to hide himself in a small hut where Mrs. Hermington put all her gardening tools in when she was walking towards his position. “She must’ve done with the boys and I’ll be next if I don’t take cover.” The hut was locked. He made an effort to open it over and over again but he failed. He was about to relinquish himself and be scolded by the irritable Mrs. Hermington as he noticed a stick which looked like a wand lying on the ground. He didn’t know why but the first thought that came to his mind was picking it up. The next thing he realised was the rusty lock opened and he rushed into the hut hastily for not wanting himself being caught. He sat at the corner of the hut in astonishment as he couldn’t stop himself fixing his eyes on the stick.
“Could it possible…?”
“Is it a real wand?”
“No, it couldn’t be. This is impossible. This isn’t Harry Potter’s world. I’m in reality…”
“…did I chant spell?”
“I remember saying alohomora.”
“No, no, no! It can’t be true!”
“If it was real, there won’t be any problem for me to do it again then.”
“Wingardium laviosa.”He tried to lift a shovel in front of him with one of the spells he took from the Rowling’s. The shovel lifted about a foot from the ground. He smiled. I knew it! I know that the world existed. I’m one of them! He ran out of the hut at speed instead of thinking he would be scolded by Mrs. Hermington. He was only thinking about seeing Mr. Bloom. He wanted to tell him about how he unlocked the door and how he lifted the shovel, by using a stick or it was actually a wand. A real wand. He grinned when he ran pass Mrs. Hermington, waving his hand. He barely heard what the fractious woman yelled at him. He gripped the wand tightly in a pocket. He could not afford to lose it. He wanted to show it to Mr. Bloom. He had to get there fast. He could feel the adrenalin rushed within his body. He was very excited. He knew Mr. Bloom was waiting for him.
“Mr. Bloom, you got to see this,” He rushed into the bookstore, to the counter, where the old man always sat behind. The bell on top of the door rang when Peverall hurried in as it denoted someone was opening the door. Mr. Bloom was not there. He was not sitting behind the counter. His grin faded.
“Where could he be?”
“He must be in the store room, of course. He might be arranging the books according to their genre,” Peverall guessed. He ran to the store room and he was right. Mr. Bloom was there, taking out books from a box. He was hardly seen as the boxes and piles of books hid him between.
“You’re early, Pev,” said Mr. Bloom cynically without sticking out his neck to see him when Peverall was about to open his mouth.
“How do you know I was here? Oh, that must be the bell. Mr. Bloom, I’m sorry I’m late. Josh McBurn was keeping me in to repair his percolator. He said no one can make the best coffee but his coffee machine. He insisted me to repair it and…oh, Mr. Bloom! Never mind about that. There’s something you should see.” He was gasping when he said the last sentence as he was very delighted to let him see what he had with him. He pulled out the wand from the pocket of his turquoise sweater with a smile that he never was able to cease from that moment. The old man looked intently at the stick that the boy just took out from his pocket. Peverall told him everything that happened without further ado and he did not miss an event. Mr. Bloom had not commented anything. He was neither encouraging nor asking Peverall to cut the nonsense. He walked towards the counter and to the bookshelves with Peverall following behind, telling him the story and trying to bring it to an end as he could not wait to hear what Mr. Bloom had to say about it.
Mr. Bloom finally stopped walking when Peverall completed his story. His wordless reaction when he turned to face him made Peverall disappointed. He definitely did not expect him to turn jolly as he was when he knew about the world nor made him believed that it existed but he never expected he would feel so much frustration when he didn’t show any emotion on his face. He thought Mr. Bloom would deny his story or he would at least told him to stop his daydream about the magical world like he used to when he came out with his inquiry about the world of withes and wizards nonetheless he did not assume his silence.
“You’ve got to believe me. I never lied, have I?”
Mr. Bloom remained quiet.
“Look. I can show you if you still don’t believe me.”
He withdrew the wand from his pocket and pointed it to a chair in front of them. He tried to lift the chair using spell but it did not work. He knew it happened before. It just got to happen once again, at least once again so he could show Mr. Bloom he wasn’t lying. He wanted him to know that the world he thought existed was real. It existed.
“Very well, my dear, if that what you meant,” Mr. Bloom spoke at last.
“No, Mr. Bloom. This isn’t what supposes to happen. It happened before. I knew it did,” Peverall replied, he wasn’t giving up.
“You show me enough, my dear. I think you should go back home and get some rest. Spending some time with Josh McBurn might tire your brain and it made you see what you were imagining.”
“I was, after all, had done unpacking the boxes and the books were on their shelves. Thank you for stopping by and don’t forget to come as usual tomorrow. I might require your assistance.”
“By the way, let me throw the stick for you. Leave it on the table, will you?”
Peverall left the store with discontent. He knew he was saying the truth and his mind was not playing tricks. He could try to do it at home. No, he could not. He left the wand at Mr. Bloom’s and the old man might have thrown it away by now. He should not leave it there at first. He regretted himself for not taking it back with him.
“I will check if Mr. Bloom had thrown it away, tomorrow and if he hasn’t, I’ll take it. If he does throw it, well, I guess I will believe that my mind was playing tricks with me,” Peverall tried to cheer himself up as he walked home, thinking about the wand.
Mr. Bloom sighed when Peverall was out of his sight. He then grinned. He knew Peverall was telling him the truth. He was one of them too and the wand was actually his. He noticed it missing last night when he reached his house. He searched for it everywhere but he missed to seek at one place, at Mrs. Hermington’s backyard. How could he miss? It was a luck that Peverall found it. He was sorry for he could not tell Peverall the truth. The time would come one day and when the time came, he would tell him that the magical world was real, he was a wizard, the truth about Peverall’s family, and there were some places in Linderhogg that was covered with a charm. A charm to prevent the underage witches and wizards from performing magic. He would tell him that Mr. Bloom’s World of Knowledge (the name of his bookstore) was one of the kinds and that the boy himself would venture into incredible journeys beyond his thoughts. The boy would know all of these, when the time came.
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