Post by maxima ruqayyah greyback on Nov 5, 2017 22:46:53 GMT -7
May 22, 2024; Ottery St Catchpole
After bringing it up in conversation with Aaron, Max had her mind made up: She was going to do something to memorialize Elias; more specifically, she was going to start a relief fund for the victims of the explosions. If she had to live with the guilt that he had died, she was determined to take it and turn it into something positive, and that had to start with her and a jar into which she dropped five Galleons as a promise that she would carry it through.
That was provided, of course, that her mother and stepfather had no objections to the idea, which she brought to them that night at dinner. Although surprised to see her taking such a stand, they didn't see anything wrong with the idea. It would give Maxima something productive to do over the summer, and it might help a few people in the process.
But “a few” hardly seemed to be enough. Max wasn't planning on simply donating her allowance for the summer to St. Mungo's. She could have done that without much effort, but she knew that creating something public in Elias's memory would be the only way to keep him alive, in a way. There was that saying that said that a person would die twice; once when they took their last breath and once when someone mentioned their name for the last time. Max didn't want Elias to die twice.
One hundred Galleons. That would be her goal, she decided. By September, she wanted to be able to say—with pride—that she had raised that much in memory of Elias. Max knew that she had already managed to accomplish something spectacular in a matter of a few days when she had gone with Quinn Price to speak with Professor McGonagall. How different could it be, really?
She wrote letters into the night until her hand ached, addressing them and personalizing them to everyone who crossed her mind—the people from school who wouldn't ignore the letter once they saw who had sent it, Jamie, Odette, and every Ministry or St. Mungo's official whose name she could find in that day's issue of the Daily Prophet. She was starting the Elias Greyback Memorial Relief Fund, she wrote, establishing that the purpose of the fund was to provide aid to those affected by the same explosions that had killed her half-brother. Until she knew if the fund was going to get off the ground, she decided to direct donations to her mother's vault at Gringotts—more secure, she reasoned, than having owls deposit purses full of gold onto her doorstep.
That wouldn't happen, however, unless she actually received responses.
That was provided, of course, that her mother and stepfather had no objections to the idea, which she brought to them that night at dinner. Although surprised to see her taking such a stand, they didn't see anything wrong with the idea. It would give Maxima something productive to do over the summer, and it might help a few people in the process.
But “a few” hardly seemed to be enough. Max wasn't planning on simply donating her allowance for the summer to St. Mungo's. She could have done that without much effort, but she knew that creating something public in Elias's memory would be the only way to keep him alive, in a way. There was that saying that said that a person would die twice; once when they took their last breath and once when someone mentioned their name for the last time. Max didn't want Elias to die twice.
One hundred Galleons. That would be her goal, she decided. By September, she wanted to be able to say—with pride—that she had raised that much in memory of Elias. Max knew that she had already managed to accomplish something spectacular in a matter of a few days when she had gone with Quinn Price to speak with Professor McGonagall. How different could it be, really?
She wrote letters into the night until her hand ached, addressing them and personalizing them to everyone who crossed her mind—the people from school who wouldn't ignore the letter once they saw who had sent it, Jamie, Odette, and every Ministry or St. Mungo's official whose name she could find in that day's issue of the Daily Prophet. She was starting the Elias Greyback Memorial Relief Fund, she wrote, establishing that the purpose of the fund was to provide aid to those affected by the same explosions that had killed her half-brother. Until she knew if the fund was going to get off the ground, she decided to direct donations to her mother's vault at Gringotts—more secure, she reasoned, than having owls deposit purses full of gold onto her doorstep.
That wouldn't happen, however, unless she actually received responses.
