I was three when I realized, grasped, why my family never said "I love you" to me anymore before bed. I was no longer important: my brother Ryan, however, was.
He was something called the Boy-Who-Lived, while I was just the younger brother. The nuisance that was crying in hunger as the other twin gorged on their love, their understanding, their pity. And I realized I didn't want that. I wanted something all mine, just mine, and someone I could always count on when everything got a little too big around my brother's head.
All through school I was ignored beyond sharing the last name of the infamous Potter. Red hair, hazel eyes, wide, mischievous grin over his face. He was so different from me that I sometimes wondered how I was related to him. Most of the time, I wondered why he was so much more important that someone who was related to him, no matter how unbelievable it was to them, when they could get attacked too. I mean, my Godfather, Sirius Black, had animagus training, as well as my father, and were both teaching Ryan how to do it.
My mother, the one who's superior charm casting was able to 'save' Ryan, forgetting I was in the room as well, was teaching him some of the more serious charms that could save his life in battle. My uncle, Remus Lupin, was teaching him meditation as well as Occlumency to protect his mind.
And here I was, left defenseless with only six years of Magical Education under my belt and a Muggle handgun loaded in my room, charmed invisible and visible to only me and hanging next to the door.
And I was still yearning for someone that I could call mine in a proud voice to anyone who asked.
And I thought I had found that in Ginny.
I've had a crush on her for a while before I asked her out. Amazingly enough, she agreed, and I was on cloud nine for a whole month, just happy I wasn't invisible. I've heard many stories of how the boy is always invisible to his lady love. And I was glad I wasn't, not a bit.
Sometimes, I wondered why I didn't notice anything at first. She had an excuse sometimes to go back on out plans, something about her brothers doing something stupid and needing her help, and her mother's and father's. I believed her, not willing to think that there was something going on behind my back.
I trusted her you know.
And my heart more than just broke the day I found her making out with my twin, the one who looked nothing like me, outside in the front yard, in front of everybody who finally said, "It's about time you got your girl, young man! We've been waiting for this moment!"
They clapped him on the back, shouting encouragement as my heart disappeared from my chest and left a hollow, pushing out everything that I had bottled up.
I slipped upstairs, unnoticed by anyone and everyone. Figures the girl I loved would leave me for fame and riches with my older twin brother. I'm almost surprised it didn't happen sooner. Almost.
There, hanging on a hook next to a Quidditch poster of Puddlemere United, was the gun. Across the room was a desk was sheaths of paper, quills with ink charmed to follow the emotions of the writer. I figured, it's probably overkill, but who cares? Certainly not anyone in my life, that's for sure.
The black ink turned red with a tint of orange as I wrote, anger and bitterness in the colour.
Dear Potters:
Finally got what you wanted, huh, FAMILY? Forget there was another child in the home, wondering why no one talked to him, why no one could say so much as hello as he walked into the room. He's nothing but the BROTHER of the Boy-Who-Lived! He's not important!
Forget the fact that the Potter family has another son, a child who should have been as equally important to at least his family if not non existent friends!
I can still remember that night, you know. Through my nightmares. Dad was yelling, "Run, Lily! Take Ryan and run!" I remember going after Mom since I didn't know what was going on. Mom screaming at the top of her lungs "Don't hurt my baby boy!", watching as that RAT BASTARD PETTIGREW smirked from the doorway as his 'Master' raised his wands to kill her in the nursery. It was almost like I wasn't there, not really. I remember Voldemort start uttering the killing curse, which I just knew was bad, the way Mom was crying about letting them go, that he could take her instead and do whatever he wanted.
I remember throwing my favorite stuffed doll, Paddy, the big black dog I had found in some of Ryan's old toys at his face and watching as he lost control of the spell and it randomly fired in the room, bouncing off of one of the platinum lamps that Remus had insisted on getting for the room since they were charmed childproof by Alice. I remember that light hitting ME straight between the eyes, Mom looking at Ryan, not even realizing her younger baby getting 'KILLED' just next to her. I remember the roof collapsing on top of us, most of the debris falling closer to you guys, since I was facing your direction when I was hit with it. Did no one ever notice the large, unhealing, still bleeding red cut above my eye?
I remember blacking out, and waking up in the same spot. I almost believed you had FORGOTTEN me there, in lieu of what was happening. I thought, maybe they're hurt too, and can't get me. They would never forget me. So I began making my way out of a little hole I barely fit through to see if I could find you guys.
Imagine my surprise when I find you all crying over Ryan's unconscious body next to the doorway in the still-intact hall. He had an already healed cut on his wrist, something that looked a lot like a circle. "He has survived the killing curse, Lily. It is truly a miracle he had survived. I believe it was your love that saved him," Dumbledore had said in some sad voice, like he believed his words as he spoke. I thought I could detect something in his voice though, something hard.
I remember thinking I was special then, since I understood the word killing at least. Maybe they had noticed me? Finally? Then I remembered thinking, Momma had never loved me. Only Ryan. Do you know how HEARTBREAKING it is for a child to think that? Do you know how. HARD. it is, thinking my parents never noticed me, not since I was born? Was I a surprise baby? Was I really invisible? Was I just some lost soul? Was I not even worth my parent's time, unlike my brother?
Those thoughts continued all the way through school. I'll never even get a diploma from school. It's surprising I even got an invitation to school in the first place. The envelope just sat there on the table while you all cried happy tears over Ryan.
The ink had begun turning green a while ago, the colour of suicide. The colour of the curse that failed to kill me almost seventeen years ago.
And I think that's when I finally began resenting Ryan. Why did he get parents? Why not me? Why did he get all the attention, even from my godfather? Why was I invisible to the people who were supposed to mean the most to me?
The ink turned even darker green while I continued writing.
Then, I found Ginerva Weasley, the first person to actually realize I was there. I knew she liked to be called Ginny, so I called her that. I knew she loved the straight laced proposal of ideas. So I just upped and asked her a few months ago.
I even wrote her a song on the guitar I had gotten fixed when Ryan broke three of the strings. It was my first one.
Then today, I come outside for some fresh air to see her MAKING OUT with my INFAMOUS TWIN BROTHER. Whatever happened to twins being to well connected? I don't think I ever had a twin, not one that actually knew me.
The ink abruptly turned black, but I my vision was so clouded with unshed tears that everything blurred and a few dropped onto the paper, smearing the ink.
So that's why I'm writing this. I can't take it anymore.
I don't have a family? Fine, I can live with that. I never had one to begin with.
I don't have an actual sibling? Fine, never had that either.
I don't have a girlfriend, not one that sees me? I can't live with that, not after I told her the day before I had loved her, not to lose her to my brother. To a complete stranger.
Good bye then. I hope we never meet again. Hope to see you in hell.
Signed,
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Was-Forgotten.
I pulled out the lyrics I had written and put them under the slightly tear stained parchment with light green ink. It was nearly green the entire parchment, save for the first few sentences. I wonder if they would ever find my body here in this room.
I lifted the gun. It was a sleek, well-oiled black handgun, one with the piston cocked. It looked well cared for, which it was.
I admired it in morbid curiosity for a moment before lifting it to just under my throat. I grinned slightly, thinking of ending all the pain. I wasn't kidding when I said 'See you in Hell' in my letter.
I pulled the trigger before everything went black.
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