AN: Here's a random one-shot that I decided to write. Don't worry about my other stories, I'm still writing. I've finished a chapter or two for most of them but I'm still waiting for my friend to find time to proofread them.
So, if you read this, you'll notice that the grammar isn't the best. My apologies, but I really suck at grammar. But, I hope you guys like this short story.
A Harry who's not the boy-who-lived but not necessarily a wrong boy-who-lived story.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
It hurt.
Hearing them laugh and sing on his birthday even though it was mine as well. Where were my presents? Where was my cake? Why won't they make me happy?
The party's always big and great. So many people came, just for him and never for me. My parents would always look so proud when they watched him play with friends. But I was always alone and no one ever bothered to congratulate me.
My body started to hurt as much as my heart. The bruises and scars started to add up. No they never abused me, just pushed me aside. The bruises and scars were made when I tried to stand out so that they would notice me. But it could never compare to the great boy-who-lived.
But then one my 6th birthday, everything felt great. My body no longer felt heavy and I had no trouble staying awake. Though I felt this way, nothing really changed. Everyone still never noticed me. So, what made me feel this great?
And then when we were 7, the parties changed. They started earlier and ended earlier; that was strange. Then, like clockwork my family would leave. They would always leave sad, but come back happy. But, why would they never take me?
It hurt.
Watching them smile and have fun as they opened their presents on Christmas morning, never once noticing my presence. Would it be too much to ask for even a spare glance? Presents and gifts. They didn't matter anymore, not after going without them for so many years already.
Every year, it was the same. On Christmas, they would wake him up but not me. Then, they would have a delicious Christmas breakfast for three. I would always sit by the tree, waiting for them to offer some to me. But, that's just a sad wish that not even Saint Nick would please.
Next came the Marauders who always spent Christmas at our house. Mooney was my godfather and Padfoot was his. Yet every year, they only spent time with him. Godfathers were supposed to act like fathers to children; at least that's what I heard. So since my dad ignored me, I guess Mooney could do the same.
Then when we were 6, something changed. Instead of staying home or partying the day away, they would leave. Every year like clockwork, they would leave the house at noon and return at 7 for a house elf prepared dinner. They would always leave sad, but come back happy. Where do they always go and why am I never invited? The house is lonely since not even the house elves spend time with me.
And every year, I would be forgotten.
It hurt.
I haven't heard my name in this house, ever since I turned 6. Did I do something bad for them to not even want to say my name? Harrison or Harry, I didn't care which. I just wanted someone to acknowledge my existence.
He's getting taller, way taller than me. How's that fair when the big brother is supposed to be me? His Hogwarts letter came, but where was mine? Could it be that even magic forgot about me?
I let him go to Hogwarts and I didn't make a fuss. Who cares about a school that didn't want me? Anyways, our house has a perfectly fine library. So I'll study by myself and impress my family. Maybe then, they'll notice me?
He went to Hogwarts yesterday, so I started to gain hope. If he wasn't here to steal their attention, maybe my parents will start to see me? But it didn't work, they just ignored all the tries I made. Maybe if I showed them my awesome magic, everything would change?
I've been through the books and everything. But how come my magic wouldn't listen to me? I've done accidental magic, I know I have. Way back when I was 5, so why couldn't I now? I couldn't feel my magic like the book said. The spare wand made no reaction and I felt sad.
Was the reason my family ignored me because I was a Squib?
If I couldn't do magic, I could do something else. There had to be something I could do to make them notice me.
But the years passed by and I made no improvement. I've slowly begun to really give up. My parents ignored me when He's not home and they treat me the same when he returns. I tried to not get jealous when he talked about school.
I've had enough! I can't take it anymore. Where do they always go on Christmas and our birthdays without me? They always leave sad but come back happy. Didn't they know? That's what I need. I don't care about the presents, the cake, or the attention. I don't even care anymore that I'm a Squib. All I want to do is be happy. Is that too much to ask, for someone like me?
So I followed them, on Christmas day when we turned 15. 8 years' worth of secrets, what would they be?
Huh, that's strange. Why would they buy flowers? Are they going on a date?
This place seems strange and depressing. I looked up at the sign and it read 'Cemetery.' Why would my family come here to make themselves happy?
They all came to a stop and stared at a grave. For hours and hours, they would talk about their days. It was when I heard my name, that my interest was piqued. Why would they talk to a dead person about me? I was too far away to hear everything since I didn't want to be seen. After all, they went to the trouble of never inviting me. If they saw me here now…well they would surely get mad.
They finally left and I was relieved. I really wanted to see what they never let me see. Who was this person that took all of their time? Who was this dead person who received more love from them than me?
I walked closer to get a better look. I saw flowers and presents and candies and books. All laid down around the grave. This person was definitely loved. Why was he so great?
I read the name that was chiseled on. Oh, I understood now. It all made sense.
I walked away from the grave and followed my family again, never once looking back at the grave.
Harrsion James Potter
July 31, 1980 – July 31, 1986
Beloved Son and Brother
May his soul rest in peace in death
And may he obtain the happiness he never had in life.
It all made sense now, but that didn't mean that it still didn't hurt.