Won't Always Remember
Life's been hard to me. Plenty of people can say it, but I mean it. Life's been really hard to me. So what if I'm only one year old? You'd be quite right in saying that my misfortune began early on in life. In fact, it just happened. Maybe there are just a few things we need to get straight. First of all, I'm just a baby. But just because I'm only a year old, it doesn't mean that I don't know what's going on. Because I do. I just won't remember it later. If you really want to know what happened at Godrics Hollow, I'm the only witness. Or should I say, the only witness who survived? I should. Because that's the truth. I'm the only survivor. Someday I won't know, won't understand. But for now, I do. I remember what happened. I remember the screams of my parents, echoing through the night. I remember my father shouting, "Take Harry and run!" to my mother, I remember my mother pleading, telling him she did not want him to leave. I didn't understand then, but I knew something was happening. Something big. And then I heard something. A bright green light lit up the whole house. And I felt like a part of my heart had been ripped out. My large amount of childish knowledge told me why this was. Someone near to me had left. Left this world. At that moment, as I was whimpering about the pangs of hurt I was feeling, my mother rushed into the nursery and snatched me up hurriedly. Something was very wrong. I began to scream with fright, and mum did her best to comfort me. She sang me my favorite lullaby, crooning gently at my quivering form.
"Hush little baby
Don't say a word
Mammas going to buy you
A mocking bird
And if that mocking bird won't sing
Mammas going to-"
She was cut of there with the appearance of a figure in the doorway. I heard the exchange that went on. Mum didn't want him to kill…someone. I wasn't sure who. She offered her life instead. I wanted to tell her to keep her life. But I couldn't. And then I saw the green light again, though clearer this time. I screamed, seeing my mother lying motionless on the floor. A cloaked face loomed close above me, and a harsh voice whispered words of triumph and hate to me. I clamped my little fists hard together, wanting to hit him, to hurt him, the way he had hurt my mother. And my father. And then, once again, the light. Right above me. It came straight at me, and hit me hard on my forehead, and then bounced right off. I heard a shrill, loud, and horrible scream, and I remembered no more. So here I am, sitting in my ragged basket, in this little cupboard. My aunt and uncle don't care about me. Right now I'm clinging to the memories, hoping that they will save me from the truth. Hoping that the memories will make it so that it all didn't happen. But someday, I know, I'll forget what happened. The memories won't always be my shield. Because I'm not that different. I won't always remember.
Disclaimer: Weeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllll…erm…It all belongs to J.K., okay? It makes me feel bad to admit it *Begins to cry nosily* WAAAHH! Oh well, I wouldn't want to actually write the books anyway. I'd much rather read them. Well, adios, I'm off to read Goblet of Fire for the *Consults piece of paper* 999 time!