You know, out of all the possible plants, the dandelion has to be my favorite. Why? When most people look at them, they see a weed. They see an unneeded and unwanted burden. Others see a future wish. A hope. Me? I see the truth that others look past. I see wounds. I see me.
Look at me; I'm such a mess. It's been three years since the battle of Hogwarts, and I still can't bring myself to forget any of it. Not a single detail. I don't want it. I don't want these memories. I was only a child. It wasn't fair. Not at all. Not to me, not to Cedric, or Fred. Certainly not to Remus, Tonks, and their son, Teddy. None of them should've died. It wasn't their battle, it was mine. It was Harry's.
They had nothing to do with it. Because of us, Teddy is going to grow up never knowing his parents, just like Harry and I had. It's not fair. And George... he lost his brother because of us. His twin. And Cedric... I can't even think about him much anymore. He didn't deserve to die; he was only seventeen at the time.
Life... it's just cruel. It leaves wounds.
That's why I love dandelions. They're the truth about life. Sometimes, you can see where the wind has blown away some of the fuzz of the dandelion. It is left damaged, broken, and battered, just like us. Just like many of the students of Hogwarts. Like Harry. Like Hermione. Hell, even Ron.
After the battle three years ago, Hogwarts was rebuilt. I became a bit of a recluse, often locking myself in my room and not coming out unless it was necessary Most people went their separate ways. Harry, my older brother (by a year), is now working as an auror for the Ministry, along with Ron. Hermione is now very high up in the Ministry, working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If I'm thinking correctly, Neville Longbottom is studying under Professor Sprout, and will eventually take over her place as the Herbology teacher.
Me? I left. I didn't see much else to do. I would've become a healer or potions master after the war was over, but something kept me from it. A feeling that I just wouldn't be able to accomplish those goals. And so, I moved. Not just out of the Wizarding World, but out of the country. In fact, I just settled into my apartment in New York. It's small, but comfortable I suppose.
Obviously, I'm going to be keeping in contact with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. If I didn't, they'd probably drag me back to England themselves... and then I'd get an earful - especially from Hermione and Harry.
"Harry, I'll be fine. I just... need a fresh start, and I feel like I can't do that properly in a place where everyone and their grandmother knows my name." I remember telling my brother, "Besides, things are alright now. Voldemort is gone and-"
"-And death eaters are still out there. I'll bet they could be plotting our deaths at this very moment." Harry sighed. "You know they're not happy about Vo-"
"Harry!" I yelled, beginning to get annoyed. "The remaining death eaters are cowards! They wouldn't do anything; not for a long time. You should know that!"
"Fine." He glared at the ground. "If you want to get yourself killed, then do so. At least keep your wand with you at all times.'
"Deal."
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