The Girl Who Lived: Ghosts of Yesterday
By Misha
Disclaimer- Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and is not mine, however much I might wish differently. However, I am not making any money off of this, so please do not sue me!
Author's Notes- This is a short story set in "The Girl Who Lived" universe, several years after book seven. It's vague and kind of confusing, but I felt compelled to read it. There are some hints about what's to come, if you read it really closely, but I don't think I give much away, not unless you delve deeply. I know I need to get back to Chamber of Secrets and I promise to have a new chapter within the next two weeks, this has actually gotten me back into that universe, gotten me connected once more with where I wanted to take things, which I figure is good. It's second person, present tense, because lately that's how my muse likes to talk and it's very vague and confusing, but I think it works. Well, that's all, enjoy!
Summery- AU. Future fic. As time moves on, you're haunted by the ghosts of the past.
Rating- PG
It's almost September 1st and there's so much that has to be done.
You can't believe that you have a child old enough to attend Hogwarts; after all it hasn't been that many years since the letter arrived for you.
Though, sometimes those years feel like several lifetimes. You've always felt like your life was split into fractions, different lifetimes. Before Hogwarts; before Cedric; after the last battle.
Three different lives.
The memories are strong as you prepare to send your son off to Hogwarts. You see him try on his robes and you're reminded once more how much he looks like his father. It's like looking at his father for the first time all over again, since your son is now that same age. Only his eyes are yours. Your mother's eyes in your son's face.
Your husband always calls you sentimental, teases you about how you get lost in the past, though you know he does it to cover his own irritation. You know a part of him feels threatened by the memories, as stupid as that sounds.
Memories, are only that, no matter how strong they are or how capable they are of pulling you straight back into the past.
This month is especially bad, full of triggers, both bitter and sweet.
Your son is full of questions about Hogwarts and you remember that first day at Diagon Alley, with Severus. You had a lot of questions at that age too.
Part of you is afraid of what his years at Hogwarts will bring him, but you know that fear is ridiculous. Your experience won't be his.
After all, you've always been different than everyone else, including the child you brought into the world. There's no evil lurking in the shadows for him, no battle he has to fight. All the fighting was done before he was born and you're grateful for that, because like any mother, you want to fight all of your children's battles for them. Your own mother died for you, after all.
You try to push the fear aside and focus on happy thoughts. He talks about all the things he's looking forward to at Hogwarts and it all flashes through your mind. Classes, laughter, Quidditch, boys, romance, friends, tears. All of it.
You don't tell your husband what you're thinking, the two of you don't share fond reminisces about your days at Hogwarts, but then you never have. There are too many ghosts lingering in those memories for the two of you to ever happily share them.
The robes are bought, the books, the wands, the brand new owl—making you think fondly back to Hedwig, the best owl you ever had. You've gone through everything on the list and then, before you know it, it's September 1st.
You take him to Platform 9 ¾, remembering that first day. A whole world opened up to you that day, it's not the same for your son, after all he grew up in this world. But you can still see his excitement and his anticipation.
It hits you suddenly how much you're going to miss him. You have other children, but this one, your eldest son, has always been different, special.
He stands there, ready to say goodbye and you realize suddenly, how much time has passed. It used to be you, now it's your child.
It flashes in front of your eyes, those seven years, as you look at him. You smile at him as you tell him goodbye, knowing the next seven years will be some of the best of his life. After all, they were for you.
This past month, the memories have haunted you, but you realize in this instant how much you treasure those memories, those ghosts. Sometimes, it's not a bad thing to be lost in the past; sometimes it's just what you need.
Your son gets on the train and you head home, once more, lost in your memories and visited by your ghosts, the ghosts of what used to be.
The End