Written for the "A Quest Into The Unknown Challenge" in the HPFC Forum.
The wind blew harshly outside, while I sat, alone, in my bedroom. Outside, in the hallway, I heard Tuney talking to her friends while they walked right by the room. Saddened, I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin there, also leaning against the wall. Unbidden, my eyes traveled from my pinkish-white walls- a result of ten-year-old girly love for the color, and a nostalgic longing for the past I can't seem to shake- over the red and gold posters that adorned my walls, over the pictures of my friends, to that one group picture that had been taken earlier this year.
I stared at it for a very long time.
After what seemed like hours, I stood up, my legs protesting the movements, making their displeasure known by adding a prickling feeling to my skin- like I was being pricked by pins and needles. It was a feeling I knew well, having a bad habit of staying in one place for too long, but not a feeling I appreciated.
I reached out, almost in a trance, and picked up the moving picture. I, presently, was the only one of my friends not to have befriended all four of the notorious pranking Marauders. I was only a friend with Remus Lupin, the brains of the group. Still, the rest of my clique was friends with them, so, naturally, I was grouped with the troublemakers more often than I would have liked.
I used to hate them- all of them. Remus gave off bad vibes at first, so he's hard to know. It took a lot of courage on my part to reach him. Everyone else followed, after that. I blinked at the picture, taking in the people- my friends, Marline, Dorcas, Alice, Emmeline, Mary, and then the Marauders themselves- James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and then Remus.
I used to believe that James Potter was a menace. Then, when I had just started to fall for my ex-best friend Severus Snape, he showed his true colors and called me the most foul of names- a mudblood. I know now he was never the right choice. He loved me, true, this I know, but he clearly does not respect me. I do not want a husband who honors me as a queen, if he does not love me as a woman.
I've grown closer to the Marauders, James in particular. He isn't such a menace anymore. His smile isn't as cruel. His attitude isn't annoying, nor is his voice or his habit of running his fingers through his hair. I used to think that he did it just to impress me, which always failed miserably, but later, Remus told me that James' hair often falls into his eyes, so he can't see properly.
The picture that was in my hands was taken in Hogsmeade, when we went together as a group for the first time. We had one of the Ravenclaw girls take the picture for us. Each of us had a copy- it really turned out to be a fun time. I remembered it like it was yesterday, but, of course, it was nearly three months ago.
I set the picture down, feeling lonelier than I had ever felt. I loved my parents, this was true, but I'm starting to regret my decision to return home for Easter break. After all, I had no friends here, nor did I have my sister anymore to bring me comfort. My parents, terribly ill as they were, could not do much for me. Turning, I walked over to my door and opened it, stepping into the hallway. I shut my door behind me gently, before I headed down the stairs, into the living room. I didn't pause to look at anything there, instead heading straight for the windowsill that looked out into the street I lived on.
The rain hit the other buildings, the street, the park equipment, hard. I could see the droplets of rain splash upwards after they hit the ground. I glanced up to my porch roof, before I opened the window and slid outside onto the wooden patio, safe from the rain. Above me, wind chimes dangled and mixed with the loud noise that came with the rain. Each time the moved, it seems like my feet got a little wetter, and I got a little less lonely.