Margola's guilt

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” According to Victorian Flower Language, asphodel is a type of lily, meaning ‘My regrets follow you to the grave’ and wormwood means ‘absence’ and also typically symbolized bitter sorrow.

"I bitterly regret Lily’s death". Harry answered.

"Incredibly right"? Drawled a snarling Snape, with the scowling look of utter disappointment on his face regretting that Harry got it right the first time.

"If you did combine Powdered Root of Asphodel and an infusion of Wormwood, you’d brew a sleeping potion ‘so powerful it is known as the 'Draught of Living Death". Professor Snape explained.

Asphodel was once believed to be a cure for snake bites. Could this be coincidence or a subtle reference to Voldemort, the dark wizard who killed Lily and could speak to snakes?

Snape's regret over Lily’s fate reflected what his life is now, i.e. a living death? Because his part in Lily’s death has haunted him for years.

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Margola's eyes flew open in astonishment as she awakened from the lucid nightmare . She reached out her hand as an instinctive response to the reality of the dream. It had seemed so real and the characters were still standing in front of her, before dissipating like billows of wispy smoke upon the wind.

Why was she being haunted by ghosts of her favorite characters in the Harry Potter story.

But deep down, Margola knew why. She had done something really bad. The skeletons were rattling around in the closet in her head. Downstairs she could hear the tap, tap, tapping of something against the wall. She would have to move them again, or bind their hands even more securely.

Confused? Ok, lets start from moments before the incident which led to the two bitches being tied up in my basement.

I had worked at 'The Company of Magic Law Firm' for ten years, brought in lots of clients and won loads of cases, my ship was due its comeuppance. Finally the time had come for me to make partner.

The meeting was called, eagerly I took my seat. The formality of blah, blah, blah completed, it was time. I all but arose from my seat when the male hormonal traitorous egotistical pricks announced the new young whippersnapper, practically naked shrew as the new partner.

We all knew how that happened, well, not over my dead body. Cliches were echoing all over the place.

I waited for witch no.1 in the underground car park, out of sight of the cameras.

"STUPIFY". She froze in her tracks.

I loaded her into the trunk, witch no.2, her best friend, happened upon the deed and she followed suit via the trunk.

Homebound we went. Into the garage and door closed behind me. I hauled them down to the basement, gagged them and for many nights Snape, Harry and Ron have invaded my dreams, like cockroaches they crawl into my dream, like bees they buzz.

It's been almost two months now. They should not have laughed at me in the bathroom.

I made partner, feigning sorrow and real tears, sadly citing, "I don't want to disappear too".

The magical authorities are still investigating.

They rest peacefully now, as petrified trees in magic woods hundreds of miles away.

EULOGY

"I leave you with Hermione's last words":

“Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have".

How long will my dreams haunt me? Maybe a personal exorcism is in order.

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