October 31, 1981-
My first memory. A beautiful woman fell to the floor. She was crumpled in front of a baby crib, at the feet of a tall, manlike figure. Sneering, the man rose his arm and pointed a wand at the baby's crib. I needed to do something, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know who any of these people were, I didn't know why I was even there. But, before I could really think, I jumped in front of the infant as the man muttered strange words. A flash of drowning green conquered my vision, making me feel sick. The child, who had a surprising amount of jet-black hair already covering his head, began to cry.
My vision returned and I stood by the crib, wincing at his piercing scream. The pale, monster-like man was gone. I was tired, but I couldn't leave the baby alone. I didn't know where his parents were. Was the woman in front of me his mom? She wasn't breathing. What happened? Where was the baby's father? Overwhelmed, I sat at the edge of the crib, lost as to what to do. After a while of fighting sleep, a low rumble made its way into my ears. It got louder and louder until a huge… thing landed outside, carrying a very large person. This giant made his way to the now silent boy and carried him to the contraption he left outside. I followed, not willing to leave the baby yet. But, I was so tired. I had no idea who I was, where I was, or what had just happened… and there was a strange man making the oddest noises in front of me. I think he was mocking the baby. He was treating it like his own and smiling down at the boy.
I figured I could leave. I just needed to sleep. I began to walk away, toward nowhere in particular, but was stopped by something when I reached the end of the street. The man had made the machine work again and he still had the baby cradled in one arm. The two rose from the ground, higher and higher. My vision became fuzzy, and then everything went black.
Later that evening…
I woke up in time to see the man get off the machine with the baby and walk toward two other figures. I rose from the ground and followed the pair. We were I a new place; houses with near-perfect lawns stretched the entire drive. The man I saw before handed the child to one of the figures; a woman with flowing emerald robes and a tightly wrapped bun took him. Meanwhile, the other new figure, a tall man with long, billowing robes and a beard to match, pulled a letter out of some unseen pocket. The huge man was wiping away tears as he asked the other man if this was the only option for the boy.
The child was lain on the porch of one of the houses with the note, and the three other people disappeared. He was quiet. He hadn't cried since I first saw him. Curious, I walked to the child and brushed some of the jet-black hair away from his eyes. Funny scar. Somehow familiar. The note… the boy's name… Harry Potter. Hm. Why did I feel as though I knew him more than as the boy I just saw this night? I tried to stay awake to protect him, as I felt I should, but the stress of the night overtook me, and I fell asleep next to this boy, not realizing that he had not removed his gaze from me.
~July 31, 1982
Happy birthday Harry! Harry turned two today. I still have not been able to figure out who I am or where I came from. It's been a year, and the only thing I have been able to figure out is that I have some weird connection to Harry that makes me want to protect him and that makes me unable to leave him. I've tried to walk out the front door, but I never make it out of Private Drive. Oh, and another thing- Harry seems to be able to see me. He can't quite speak very clearly yet, but he likes to smile at me and he waves at me when the Dursleys leave the room. They really don't treat him as well as they should.
They spoil Dudley. I sometimes listen in on Mr. and Mrs. Dursley's conversations. I've gathered that there is something about Harry that they want to hide or get rid of. But they never actually say what that is. They usually begin talking about this mysterious problem and try to change the topic, which usually ends with one or both of them swooping into Dudley's room and giving him an overwhelming amount of attention. They ignore Harry except to give him the very basic needs that an infant needs. I have just wanted for Harry to get something special, something better than this dismal place where those strange people abandoned him. When Mrs. Dursley put Harry in his crib bed for a nap, I walked outside and picked a few flowers off of a bush outside the kitchen window and then went back to Harry's room. He wasn't asleep yet, and he smiled at me and stared at the flowers in wonder. I love his smile. He deserves to smile more.
~August 17, 1985
I watched as a five year old Harry stared out of one of the kitchen windows during dinner. He wanted to go outside so badly, but was not allowed. He was grounded for breaking one of Dudley's toys- an act that he was not responsible for. Dudley broke his own toy and blamed it on Harry. Petunia, the obnoxiously nosy and skeletal matriarch, stepped out for last minute spying on the neighbors, and I took my opportunity. Most of the time, they don't see anything I move, and they never see me, an aspect of my existence that I still have no clue about. Either way, I try to not interact with anything when any Dursley is in the room just in case they do witness anything.
So, since Mrs. Dursley was outside, Dudley was in his room, and Mr. Dursley was still at work, I took a glass jar from the cabinets by climbing on the counter, and went out to the backyard to collect a few fireflies. I hid the fireflies behind my back so Harry wouldn't see them when he looked up as I passed, and I practically flew to the broom closet. I made it to Harry's bed just as Mrs. Dursley shut the front door again on her way to the kitchen. I placed the jar of fireflies next to Harry's scruffy bed and waited for him to go to bed. When he came to his space under the stairs, he stopped dead when he saw them.
The greenish light of the fireflies illuminated his scar as he held the jar close to his face; reminding me of that night four years ago. I remember how he turned to me and grinned. He rushed forward and tried to give me a hug, but for some reason, his arms went right through me. I didn't realize how much I was wishing for some kind of contact until Harry proved it wasn't possible. To the five year old's credit, he just gave me a soft look and gently placed his hand on the outline of my arm. It had taken me a while to notice, but as Harry grew, I grew too. I was the size of a one year old the first time I met him, and I have been about his size for the past four years. I seem to grow with him in size.
Harry turned from me and went back to the fireflies. He smiled at them with sympathy and walked out of the closet room. I remember how his chubby child hands struggled to lift the kitchen window and release the fireflies. I remember how he whispered as they flew away, "No one should be stuck where they aren't meant to be. Fly far, friends." Such wise words. If only they applied to everything, to everyone. I followed him back to his closet room, where he quickly fell asleep.
~Early summer of 1991
Harry was almost 11, but he never had a real childhood. No fun, games, friends. I was only able to make it a little better every now and then. He had even stopped seeing me years ago. I was like an imaginary friend- there for a few years, and then forgotten about. He hadn't shown any signs of even knowing that I existed. We had seemed to be growing at around the same pace, so I assumed I was about his age. However, he shot up quickly, and was now tall for his age and lanky. I was growing slowly in comparison. While I had been taller than him once, for a short period, I was now shorter. No longer growing at the same rate, I became even more confused as to my origin. Now I had no clue as to my age. The only thing I was confident about was my connection to Harry. His life was terrible, but it would soon change, as I came to find out.
Harry was making the Dursley's breakfast one morning when the post arrived. Vernon growled for Dudley to get the mail without looking up from the television. Dudley, also transfixed by the T.V., ordered Harry to get it. Harry scowled and made his way to the front door. He sorted the mail in his hands on his way back to the kitchen, but stopped short of the entrance when he saw a letter with his name penned as the recipient. He stared at it all the way to his seat and handed his uncle the rest of the mail. Dudley decided to make a scene when he saw Harry with the letter. There was an argument, Harry rightfully wanted his letter, but the Dursleys were reluctant to let him even that liberty. Harry lost in the end… but only temporarily.
After weeks of keeping the letters for Harry that arrived daily from him, Harry was about to win. On Sunday Harry would never forget, letters for him cascaded out of the fireplace, windows, and the mail slot, everywhere! Vernon managed to shove Harry away before he read any of them and carried the lot of them to the secluded Hut-on-the-Rock. But, when midnight struck, the door of the hut flew open to reveal a huge figure. The man I remembered from my first memory! I had no idea why he was there. He called himself "Hagrid" and scared the living daylight out of the Dursleys. I liked him. He gave Harry his letter. Harry was a wizard. Explains a lot. I mean, hopefully he won't feel like an outcast anymore. But what does that mean for me? Hagrid continued to look at Harry as if he were his father.
~ Later that summer
Harry left with Hagrid this morning to purchase everything he needed for Hogwarts. If it weren't for my memories of years ago, I would be skeptical. There had to be a reason for the giant, Hagrid, to return. Anyway, upon entering Diagon Alley, I lost my breath. The wizarding world? Amazing. People, witches and wizards, were performing magic casually all around. Owls flew overhead, children laughed at moving pictures along the shop windows, and shop owners promoted their wares. We walked past all of that (well, I practically ran trying to keep up with the longer strides of Hagrid and Harry) and into Gringotts, a wizard bank.
The goblins, as Hagrid called them, who run the place are creepy. And grumpy. The ride through the vaults… I don't want to go through that unless I have to. We got Harry's money; Galleons, sickles, and knuts. Our next stop turns out to be "Madame Malkin's" for Harry's robes. Hagrid left Harry as he was fitted for robes, saying he will be back soon. Thread, buttons, and needles floated in the air at the seamstress's directions. A boy who looked to be Harry's age is getting fitted too. He had platinum blonde hair and introduced himself as Draco Malfoy. He's kind of a jerk. He seems spoiled like Dudley. I don't like him, and I don't believe Harry does either. I was glad to get out of the shop as Hagrid returned, holding something.
Harry and I walked out to meet him to see a white owl hooting softly from the cage. Harry is ecstatic and thanks him profusely. Hagrid tells him it's a late birthday present. The owl turned from the two and pierced me with its yellow gaze. It was strange, the times I could be seen, and who could see me. While they finished Harry's shopping, I could only think about how it seemed Harry's life was about to get so much better. He'll find his place.
~Year One
Harry needed to calm down before he gave himself a heart attack. He kept pacing his room, muttering about his worries. "What if it is all just one big prank? But what if it isn't? Oh, I don't know… what if it is all real and they made a mistake about me?" Gosh, he needed to shut up. I've seen him grow up, and I know he worries too much. I wished I could knock him upside his head so he would stop stressing. No, then he'd miss his train.
The train! Harry realized the time just as I did and ran down the stairs of the house to tentatively ask his uncle and aunt for a ride to the station. The car ride was boring, but tense. Harry stepped out, grabbed his trunk from the boot, and watched as his rude family drove away laughing. I kept pace with him as he tried to find his way to platform nine and three quarters. I'd never heard of it. It isn't supposed to exist. Then again, these people seem to miss a lot. Muggles, as Hagrid called them, don't see the things of the wizarding world. They aren't supposed to.
I saw it before Harry did. No one else seemed to. I mean, there are no numbers, but the platform seemed obvious. Yet, Harry remained oblivious until he caught the conversation of a large family of redheads rushing past. They were heading to the same platform! Good thing he didn't feel alone anymore. He asked the mother of the family what to do, and hoped he didn't sound stupid. I stood and watched as he ran through the wall I noticed earlier. Suddenly, things went black again.
I regained my bearings to see Harry running to a huge train with the wizarding family he met. The train had lettering across the side of it that read, "Hogwarts Express". Definitely a good sign. I boarded the train behind Harry and followed him to one of the only compartments with room. We saw the youngest boy from the helpful family already sitting and Harry asked if he could sit with him. The other boy told him yes and introduced himself as Ron Weasley. Harry told Ron his name and the redhead froze before hesitantly asking about Harry's scar.
Harry pulled his hair back and didn't make a big deal about the other boy asking about the scar that he had, for so long, believed was the result of a car crash. But I could see beyond the façade he put up; he was nervous, confused, excited, and slightly uncomfortable. Whether he realized it or not, Harry was quite predictable. Then again, I've had to follow him around for as long as I can remember. Literally. I turned to see the compartment door open. A frizzy-haired girl stepped in and asked a question for the boy standing next to her. He apparently lost his frog. Who loses their frog?
Hours later, we arrived at the school. Rather, we arrived across a lake from the school. A booming voice summoned all first years. Hagrid! All first years were to ride the boats across the lake to get to the school- a freaking castle. The water was inky and the floating lanterns around us made me feel as though I were dreaming. Harry appeared to be in shock. Inside the castle, all the first years were herded into an enormous entrance hall. The ceiling curved far above the heads of everyone gathered. The clicking of shoes made all heads turn. I felt dizzy.
The tall woman with the emerald robes and tight bun stood in front of the crowd. It was like she materialized from my memories. She looked exactly the same. It really couldn't be a coincidence that two people from my memories now appeared as Harry's life changed significantly. But why? I missed everything she said, but followed Harry as they all followed her into a cavernous room. People, students, everywhere. All staring at the first years. They all wore black robes and sat at one of four long tables. At the front of the room was a single long table at which adults in varying robes sat. Teachers?
My breath caught. At the center sat another ghost from my memory. The elderly man with icicle hair, half-moon glasses, and twinkling eyes. His gaze scanned the first years and landed on Harry. His expression warmed. He had been looking for Harry. Harry didn't seem to notice. He shifted uncomfortably. I saw the blonde boy from Diagon Alley. Several first years had left the group to sit on a stool in front of the tall woman, McGonagall. They placed a patched hat on their head and… dear lord it talked. I thought this world couldn't get any weirder. Eventually, the hat shouted a word, either Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin, and the student went to the associated table.
The Hermione, the frizzy-haired girl, the boy who lost his frog, Neville, and Ron were all placed at the Gryffindor table. The blonde boy was quickly placed in Slytherin. Harry's name was called and he took his place on the stool. I followed apprehensively. It took a while, and I chewed my nails nervously, wondering where he'd be placed, if placed at all. Finally, the hat called out Gryffindor. Harry sighed in relief, and I wonder what he had experienced as the hat fell over his eyes. As Harry made his way to the table, I wondered where I would be placed if I were normal.
After everything that happened this year, between adjusting to this new world of magic, making friends with Ron and Hermione, and making enemies, Harry just couldn't catch a break. He left behind Ron and Hermione and continued through only to come face to face with Professor Quirrell. Harry was tied down with rope. Harry desperately tried to buy time by talking. The man claimed to have Voldemort on his side. A voice came from Quirrell. He shoved Harry in front of the mirror, "using him." But for what? Quirrell turned and removed his turban. That face. That face. Evil.
I remember from years ago, except it was highlighted in green at the time and attached to its own body. Voldemort. That was its name. It killed Harry's parents and aimed to kill Harry too. I had to do something. Voldemort screamed, telling Quirrell to seize Harry. Quirrell's hand wrapped around Harry's wrist, but I couldn't let that happen. I don't know how, but as I called out to Harry desperately, with my hand out to stop Quirrell even though I knew I couldn't touch him, Quirrell released Harry in pain. I focused all my energy on helping Harry. It blinded me. I wouldn't, couldn't let Harry die.
Quirrell reached for his wand to put Harry's life to an end, and Voldemort screamed. Harry reached forward and I felt him do so rather than saw him do so. I remember my hands extending at the same time as his, my voice crying out his name. I had to save him. My efforts seemed to be hurting Harry too, but as long as he held on… Harry fell as Quirrell was ripped away. I stooped to my knees. My gaze tiredly lifted to see Dumbledore. Harry was safe, so I… I could rest. I welcomed the blackness.
~Year Two
Harry stood within the cold, green-hued sewer system under the castle. An ancient statue towered above the small figure that held Harry's attention. He flew to Ginny, pleading that she was still alive. I detected a presence behind us. Riddle. He spoke, startling Harry. He told Harry how he abused Ginny's trust, her very life. "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT" sparkled in front of us. How does this guy keep coming back?
Fawkes flew in with the sorting hat. The bird turned its black eyes briefly to me, just long enough for me to know it knew I was there. Voldemort laughed. Oh, Harry. Why couldn't you just have a normal life? Harry thought quickly, blurting out how Voldemort already failed to kill him- his mother's love. That beautiful woman who haunted my dreams. Still, it didn't explain why he lost his didn't dwell on it. He summoned the basilisk. Fawkes… the hat… the sword.
The basilisk fell, but a fang sunk deep into Harry's arm. From where I sat next to Ginny, I could see Harry faltering. The venom took effect swiftly. I didn't know what to do. As I tried to recreate what I had done a year before, Fawkes gained my attention. He stared into me and I relaxed. Fawkes would help both Harry and me. The bird flew to Harry and cried, its tears healing him. Riddle screeched in anger, but Harry ended thing quickly with one blow to the diary with the fang he pulled from his arm. Ginny stirred from her position next to me. Another trial overcome. Harry was safe, I was… still in limbo. A ghost with no power to be detected.