I loved Cedric Diggory but he died. I loved Harry Potter but he left me. I loved Michael Corner but he never knew.
Our house burnt down after the Death Eaters discovered my father was clean.
We stayed at an inn and I did not look into my parents' eyes.
My grandmother sent us letters. She wanted us to go back to China.
All my clothes were gone. I lost many books. My collection of mirrors disappeared.
My mother lost 12.000 pounds she was saving in a cupboard.
They packed everything for our departure, early in the morning.
I did not care if we arrived anywhere, because we would always be on a journey.
My socks were damp. I stretched them on the sill in the balcony. I looked down. There was a street with a lamppost and an old man and a flower pot.
There was a war far away, even if I did not hear it howling. Would they die in battle? If they bled, would they tell those who hadn't? Would love prevail?
I prayed for them in my sleep. I did not care.
The next day, we Apparated to Germany and we had lunch in a little village. I saw a church in the horizon. Inside, a priest was sleeping and the candles flickered weakly.
I knelt and waited. I wanted to love God. Their God.
We had a Portkey ready to take us through the barriers of Eastern Europe. When the time came we gathered around the rusty pot and we touched it, but before they all disappeared I shrank away and fell on the ground.
They were gone. I felt free, if for a brief period of time.
I knew they'd come back so I ran away. I did not know where the end was. The people I passed by smiled at me, I think. The places I saw I never distinguished because I only looked down.
I fell asleep running. My eyes closed but my feet kept going. I frightened the towns; they said I was a ghoul. They were giving me a meaning, but not a destination.
If we stop we die. If we sit still and stop breathing we are dead.
I was…immortal.