I arrived at school early the next morning with more questions I thought of while trying to fall asleep, but Coach Woyan was not in his office. Thinking that he was just running late, I sat in front of his office waiting for him to arrive. When the warning bell rang, I gave up and ran all the way towards my history class.
Caroline had been annoyed that she had to wake up earlier and leave the house earlier for no reason. Emily had been surprised that I wanted to talk to Coach Woyan.
I wasn’t the only one who was confused by Coach Woyan’s disappearance. During lunch, Emily, who had her schedule changed once she got onto the school rounders team, said that during gym, the other school rounders coaches were also confused on why Coach Woyan wasn’t there.
Apparently, Coach Woyan didn’t call in sick, and he didn’t answer any of their phone calls. So Coach Fleming, one of the female rounders coaches, went to his house to see what was up with him. She still hasn’t come back.
But it was obvious to tell that something was very wrong with Coach Woyan.
During maths class, the intercom turned on and the classroom became silent. Clearing his throat, the Headmaster said through the intercom, “Let us take a moment of silence to remember Coach Woyan.”
In the silence, I gave Caroline a confused look.
She replied with a shrug.
We weren’t the only ones who were confused. All around the classroom, everyone was looking around, confused.
After a minute, the Headmaster spoke again through the intercom. “Today at eleven forty-nine, Coach Woyan was found deceased in his house. If you are on the school rounders te—”
Everything seemed as if it froze. I no longer saw anyone move. I no longer heard anything the Headmaster said. And I no longer breathed.
My father was dead.
It has been a week since the death of Coach Woyan. The doctors were confused about his death because there were no visible signs of damage. And when the doctors ran tests on Coach Woyan, they became even more confused because all of Coach Woyan was healthy.
The announced his death as heart failure, but I knew one thing that could have caused Coach Woyan’s death.
The Killing Curse.
And the only wizards or witches who would actually use the Killing Curse would be Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Especially during the Second Wizarding World. But why would a Death Eater or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named want to murder Coach Woyan?
Was it because he was a pure-blood wizard who was around Muggles too much?
Looking at myself in the mirror, I grabbed my hairbrush and began neatening my hair. Today was the day of Coach Woyan’s funeral.
“Sarah,” called my mother. “We need to be going soon or else we’ll be late.”
My mother appeared at my door as I struggled to run a brush through my hair. Quickly making her way towards me, my mother grabbed the hairbrush out of my hand and began brushing my hair.
“Mom?” I asked quietly.
“Why do people murder?”
In the mirror, I could tell that my mother was taken aback from the question. “Well, um… Some people murder because, maybe… um… they want revenge?”
I nodded. That made sense although my mother didn’t sound so confident with her answer.
When my mother placed down the hairbrush, I looked her into the eye through the mirror. I smiled sadly at her, knowing that she would probably never learn the things I knew about my father.
Standing up, I turned to face my mother and said, “Let’s go.”
The car ride to the funeral home was silent except for the silent rumbling of the car engine. I couldn’t help but take advantage of the rare silence and think about how much things had happened to me in the past months.
I kind of felt guilty for having fun while acting like a Muggle when there were Wizarding families all over London struggling to stay positive and alive.
I had learned from Potterwatch that entire families were murdered. Sometimes, the Death Eaters only left one alive. Having only my father I barely knew get murdered still impacted my mood a lot. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to see your entire family die before your eyes and then cope with the grief afterwards by yourself.
Fiddling with my black dress, I stared out the window wishing, that like my father, I wouldn’t let Voldemort ruin my future.
When my mother and I entered the funeral home, I recognized many people who were on the school rounders team and teachers from school. I could not feel any presence of magic, not even the smallest, and I was not surprised.
Coach Woyan had told me that both of his parents had passed away and he was an only child.
He had also told me that he rarely had any contact with anyone in the Wizarding World other than his rare visits to Diagon Alley and his occasional letters to and from Professor Dumbledore.
Walking down the aisle and towards the coffin, my hands shook. I had only known that Coach Woyan was my father for a day, and he was already dead.
Looking down at the coffin, I was immediately intimidated on how big Coach Woyan seemed laying down. Other than his paler skin and stillness of his chest, it seemed as if Coach Woyan was in a deep sleep.
Being the informal man he was, Coach Woyan owned no suits, but instead only button up shirts that ended right past his elbows. Because of the shortness of his sleeves, you could see Coach Woyan’s tattoos clearly.
Trying not to start crying, my eyes raced Coach Woyan’s ink filled arm, and I saw a tattoo that every wizard and witch knew and feared of.
The Dark Mark.
I now knew the real reason why my father left my mother and I.
And I now knew the real reason why my father did not make me get in the school rounders team.
He was a Death Eater.