Curled up in an armchair nearly twice your size, you can't help but wonder. Why is it always you? Neville Longbottom, the boy who is nearly a squib. Neville Longbottom, the complete klutz and laughing stock of Hogwarts. Neville Longbottom, the boy whose parents don't even recognize him. Shivering, you bury yourself deeper into the fabric of the chair, dreading the day that that fact will come out.
You know so little about how it all happened, it taunts you. You know that there was a curse... the Cruciatus curse, which puts someone in such severe pain that they may never think the same way again. Your grandmother is reasonable, you love her with all your heart, but sometimes, you just wish that there was someone who you could call "Mum." Someone who you could call Mum, and they would understand you, recognize you.
Underneath your bed, where most boys in your dorm store candy and extra socks, you have a small box. Yours, too, is filled with candy wrappers... But they are empty, each bearing the same legend of the infamous bubblegum.
"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum- fill the room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refuse to pop for days".
To the unobservant eye, there is no significance to these hundreds of wrappers; they may as well just go in the rubbish bin. But you would never do that.
This was your first year going to Hogsmeade. You loved Honeydukes as much as everyone else- Chocoballs, Fizzing Whizbees, Ice Mice, Peppermint Toads, the list goes on and on. Your pockets were weighed down with dozens of sweets... But not Drooble's. Never Drooble's. In fact, despite the suggestion from the wrappers cluttering your area, you don't think you've ever tasted a piece. Just looking at the crinkled, blue paper is enough to trigger a wave of nausea.
"Mum. Dad." As you gaze down at the small photograph in your hand, your eyes fill with tears. Your mum looks absolutely radiant, her round face beaming down at the baby in her arms. Your father has his arm around both of you, smiling and laughing. It pains you to see them like this; so happy and carefree, unaware of what the future holds for them. Each time you look down at this picture, you feel as though your chest is weighed down and you can't breathe right. But still, it never leaves your pocket. A tear leaks out of your eye, and you weakly brush it away, knowing that there isn't really a point. The tears fall faster and harder, but you make no attempt to stop them.
You don't know when, but at some point, you fall asleep in the chair, the picture still firmly in your grip. You dream of the life you wish you have: you aren't a better wizard, you still have the worst memory of anyone you know, but you have two parents who know and love you. And when you wake up the next morning, you feel as though you're about to cry. No matter what you dream, there is no denying the truth.
They'll never know who you are.
A/N. Written for Fire The Canon's Third Year Tournament
Dedicated to my awesome friend, DobbysReincarnation, who edits every draft of everything I write, along with obsessing over HP and AVPM with me, when no one else will. :)
Disclaimer- yeah, not mine...