Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or names you may recognize from JK Rowling's works. Aiden is however, my own creation, as is the plot.
I remember many things; I know many things.
I remember the feeling of the being loved, the warmth it brought me. I remember sleeping in a comfortable, warm bed, though I have not slept in one for many years. I remember the hugs I used to receive from my mother, Lily Potter nee Evans, the ones I don't get any longer. I remember when my father, James Potter, used to smile at me; I don't receive that privilege any more either.
Now I know the debilitating feeling of sorrow, the feeling that comes from knowing that your own parents couldn't care less about anything you could possibly do. Ever. I know the feeling of sleeping up in the drafty attic of our house, where I was forced to move after my parents decided to give my newborn brother the bigger room and convert the only other bedroom to a playroom. My mother no longer gives me hugs; she is satisfied to ignore my presence completely. My father no longer smiles at me and ruffles my hair; instead he frowns at me as if consistently disappointed.
The only people who really pay attention to me are the house elves, my godfather Remus Lupin, and my little brother Harrison, or Harry as everyone else calls him.
The house elves are my friends. They taught me to write, to draw, how to do wandless magic, and how to do house elf magic. They accepted me and took care of me when my parents didn't. They brought me extra blankets when I was cold on windy nights; they comforted me when I cried alone in my room; and they brought me meals when my parents neglected to tell me that dinner was downstairs.
Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and my godfather. Incidentally, he's more of a father to me than my biological father is nowadays. He never forgets about me. He visits me all the time and we spend the time talking, laughing, and playing. He's the one I tell my hopes and dreams to. He knows that one day I want to travel the world and learn as much as I can. He knows that I want to be a potions master, something my father would never approve of.
My brother is both a blessing and a curse. The day he was born was the day I stopped receiving any recognition from my parents aside from an occasional passing glance. The day he defeated the dark lord was the day that I ceased to exist, at least in my parents' point of view.
But for all of the pain that he's caused me, every time I see him I feel great joy well up inside of me. We look very similar, we both have completely uncontrollable hair that we got from our father; the only difference is that his is a very dark brown, and mine is black. We have the same shape of eyes, but while his are a replica of my father's hazel, mine are green, like my mother's. He's independent and intelligent, almost as much I at his age. While he's only five, but he loves to read and fly, which he is much better at than I am.
He's my little brother, and I love him.
I am Aiden Potter. I'm eight years old, and this is my story.