I'll never forget that night. Harry and I were coming home. I was with my gang, we had been loitering somewhere; I'm not sure what Harry was doing. Anyway, he was giving me cheek. Looking back, I think the things he said were justified, especially after all the years of crap I put him through; but then, I didn't think about that. I did what came naturally; I retaliated.
I asked him about this boy Cedric he kept talking about in his sleep. I asked him if Cedric was his boyfriend. I didn't realize how mad I had made him until he had gone for the summer. Anyway, Harry pulled out his wand. After what that giant did to my bum when I was eleven, I got scared. I told him to put it away. He told me to never mention Cedric again, but I was only concerned about my bum.
Then, everything went cold. Everything that had ever made me smile could have flashed before my eyes, but it wouldn't have had the same effect. There was no happiness in that place. It was getting colder and colder, and it shouldn't have; it had been the hottest day of the summer. I thought that Harry was making all this happen. He told me to shut up, but I wouldn't listen. I punched him in the face to try and make him stop, and then I ran. It wasn't until I heard his wand hit the ground that I knew that he wasn't doing anything.
I heard Harry yell 'whatever you do, keep your mouth shut'. I didn't know what in the world he was talking about. Then, I was knocked flat on my back. Ignoring Harry's warning, I started to scream. I could feel something on top of me, but I couldn't see it. I knew Harry could because he was trying to find his wand. I felt a clammy hand close around my throat. Then, whatever joy was left inside of me, began to drain. I knew that the invisible creature on top of me was taking everything happy that was inside of me, away.
Then, I saw something that I had hoped that I would never see again. I saw my mother, crying herself to sleep.
I was about two years old when I first saw her. Now, normally, I wouldn't have cared about someone crying, but it was my mum. I may have been a spoiled little git, but I loved my mum, even then, and seeing her cry like that had been painful for me. When I saw her, I remembered her calling out a name. When I was two, I hadn't understood what she said, but with the invisible creature on top of me, I heard the name my mother was calling out very clearly.
Lily.
I knew, somehow, that Lily was Harry's mum's, my mum's sister's name. How I knew, I don't know, seeing as anything having to do with their lot was not to be mentioned under my father's roof.
I remember Harry saying something three times. There was a giant silver stag, and whatever was attacking us went away. I was in a state of extreme shock, so Harry and that batty cat lady, I forget her name, had to carry me home.
But that was two years ago. Now, I'm leaving the neighborhood I've grown up in. I'm leaving with a witch and wizard (much to my father's dismay) because of some supreme evil wizard who hates anyone who can't do magic. Harry's is going to have to destroy him or something along those lines.
I'm just glad I got my chance to thank him. Or rather, tell him I didn't think he was a waste of space. I didn't get a chance to talk to him last summer, what with that old man taking him to his friend's house. Otherwise, I would have told him then. But better late than never.
I feel sorry for mum. I know she wanted to say something to him. Sometimes I wish she wasn't so bloody proud. But I know I can't talk. I wouldn't have wanted to leave if it wasn't for what happened two years ago. I wouldn't have cared if it hadn't been for what I saw.
A/N
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