Never Never Land
Some children are born to grow wise, while others may never grow up at all.
Being the child of a muggle and a wizard I had the best of both worlds as a child. One of my favourite things was that I had a load more books. As a child, one of my beloved books was by the author J M Barrie, called Peter Pan. How I wished I could take the second star on the right, go straight on 'til morning, then join Peter, Wendy, Michael, John and all the Lost Boys in fighting their war with the pirates.
My parents loved me to bits, I was their world. An only child I was lavished with affection and held their attention in return. Walls were adorned with photos of all our exploits over my childhood, childish toys packed away, never thrown.
My world was turned upside down on the 1st September 1997 when I was forced to board that train waiting to take me to that hell hole. We watched that murderer proclaim himself Headmaster of Hogwarts. We watched his pet goons Carrow and Carrow torture Neville Longbottom for standing up for us. I had to watch, helpless, as he screamed in pain for someone to end it. That used to be called unforgivable. What does that word mean anymore?
I stood on the sidelines watching and waiting to know when the fight was on. I never doubted that Harry Potter would come and save us. Then I heard rumours that Neville had a group called Dumbledore's Army, who were going to kill every god damn last Death Eater. So I joined. And we trained and trained, until my muscles burned in agony, and then we trained some more.
One day in April, the 7th years started to disappear, that's when we knew we had to run. We hid for weeks, only holding on by the hope that we could save the world. And he came. He was more awesome than I had ever heard. I never knew him before; he was a God-like figure. And he slammed us down. My heart sank. We weren't necessary.
When McGonagall told us everyone overage could fight, we were heart broken. But we came back. No DA member will abandon their friends. And we fought with our last breaths. Jets of light spun around me, whizzing, crash, bang, screams. I couldn't cope with this madness any of air overhead, Neville, broomback, carrying mandrakes. I paused.
My pause was all my opponent needed. A burst of green light hit me square on. For a fraction of a second, I think, I was conscious of what had happened and I cursed myself for my stupidity. Blackness consumed my entire body.
After the battle my parents came to collect my body. I don't know how they must have felt, to be woken at 4am to be told their precious baby had been killed. They wept over my cold body, pleading with a God who didn't exist to explain it somehow. At my funeral my mother read a poem about how she wished she could hold me in her arms just one more time. My coffin went behind some curtains and everyone left the crematorium.
My parents collected my ashes and had them placed in a jar shaped like a doll and they put it on the mantle piece. From here I can see everything that happens. I can see how my parents can't get over my death. They still see me everyday, yet I never age one bit. I am the girl who never grew up. I sit here every day watching the world go by, not being able to do anything to help those I love.
We, the dead, you see, can see things still. We are in a never never land. We are like Peter Pan and the lost boys. We will never age. I still smile from the photos on the wall, immortalised for eternity, never aging. Only this Neverland doesn't have fairies and pirates and food fights every day. This Neverland only contains the pain of only being able to see, not do. I have a lot of time to think. I did go to the second star on the right and straight on 'til morning, in a way; I just wish dawn didn't come so soon. J. was right in that some children never grow up.
I am the girl who never grew up. I stay a child, grinning on the wall forever.