The wind had picked up over the last couple of days. Today was the perfect day for a fly and Elijah took the opportunity as one that would help him clear his head. His mother’s death had been something no one had been expecting. She’d disappeared for a few weeks. News of her and pictures had came through the tabloids that followed her around. Elijah knew she’d turn up eventually, as did his father, but neither man had banked on her turning up in a makeshift coffin. It wasn’t at the manor anymore though as far as Elijah knew. He didn’t know what he would have done had it been Chase turning up in a coffin on his doorstep. He knew he wouldn’t have wanted to be there when his father fell apart. They’d left on poor terms. Now there was this. Elijah felt awful already. He couldn’t imagine what his father was going through.
Now, having abandoned his broom, Elijah was sat on the grass of the pitch, picking at the grass and tearing up into shreds of nothingness. The flight around the lake hadn’t been nearly as thrilling as Elijah had first thought it would have been. It hadn’t cleared his mind because unlike many he didn’t have to concentrate on a broom. He learnt to fly before he could walk. He and the broom worked as one, not as two pushing against each other. Elijah wiped his hands on his jeans and then rubbed his eyes. At a loss of what else to do, the Slytherin got to his feet and kicked his broom up. He jumped on it, nearly losing his balance, and pressed forward with his foot, sending the Bulgarian broom soaring back up into the fresh air.
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