* Shorter chapter than I wanted, but I like it. Also, be aware, newcomers, that I have sh*t eyesight and can barely see what the hell I'm typing... If there are any spelling mistakes, just know that I actually love grammar, and that I'm just sorry... (cries) OK? OK? Apologies, I'm an emotional rollercoaster, because I just caught up on the new season of "Suits." MIIIIIIIKE! NOOOOOO!
John lurched up from his bed, feeling sore all over. John's bed consisted of a hard mattress and an itchy, green, blanket. Sleep was one of those things that John ignored completely. Why close your eyes and dream of flying when he could actually do that in real life? It was stupid, John had always thought.
The little pills John had been forced to take as a child lay tucked under a pile of papers in his bedside drawers. Those pills were for some form of severe insomnia, which John had denied having since the age of 4. And yet, all that changed when he arrived at Hogwarts and decided to experiment as to what would occur. The result? Well, let's just say that he did have severe insomnia, and whenever he did sleep, he had weird dreams that haunted him throughout the day.
And, they weren't normal, human, dreams. No. These were rollercoaster rides of adventure, thrill, companionship, and loss. John experienced all the pain he had seen the thirteen men go through…
A flitting thought flew through John's head. There had been this one time, where John had thought of a moment when he told… the other Scottish one… With the red hair, and long legs, and temper that definitely proved her nationality. Something about… Remembering…
John shook his head, as he was getting lost in his thoughts again. As John had just been lying on the bed, he rolled off, didn't bother to make his bed, as his mum would surely do that for him…
Oh, his mum. That was one lie everyone believed, including John. It was one of the things he learned, after his time in Hogwarts; he was totally and utterly alone. Raised in an orphanage, ran away… All those things he said about his father being an herbalist… Just words to keep John in a, well, mostly, sane state of mind.
John looked around the room. Heaving a sigh, he walked down the staircase, which creaked horribly, to the kitchen.
The kitchen consisted of a stove. But, it wasn't like a Muggle stove, or a Wizard stove… OK, he lied a bit. John had seen these forms of stoves in poor countries… They were hollow concrete prisms, shoved against a wall, with a metal sheet that went on top. The hollow bit was where you kept the wood burning.
Today wasn't a day for coffee, which John had used to hate, but found that it's bitter qualities tasted magnificent with a few (or more, really) spoons of sugar.
So, John found himself in an empty house, by himself, with only the books and his thoughts to occupy him. It was odd, as John had always restricted himself from participating in the activities of his friends at Hogwarts. They seemed, stupid, idiotic, illogical. However, John would do nearly anything just so that he could have a friend to talk to. Preferably Clara, but Ginger would do.
Again, his thoughts wandered off to the Scottish woman. It had taken John a while, but he had finally realized that he was attracted, not romantically, of course, but just intrigued by Ginny Weasley because of how much she reminded him of... Well, her.
Ginger had a fierce nature, and although underestimated, she could hex your, um, well… She could do some serious bodily harm, which included the painful removal of part of the male anatomy.
But, along with that, she was one of the most caring people John knew. And there was that little seed of guilt in John's stomach, because he had often ignored her, finding Clara's company more comforting.
That wasn't right either. Because, although he cared for Clara immensely, he felt attached to the other Scottish redhead. Something told John that… oh, what was her name?
Three people tumbled out of the Blue Box. One, who John instantly recognized being as… River? Yes. But the others, the redhead, and a boy were also there.
The "Chin Man" said cheerfully, "These are my top operatives," he indicated toward the three. "The Legs, The Nose, and Mrs. Robinson."
John trembled as he sat down. Those little, urm, flashbacks always seemed to be happening now… But, it didn't take a genius to find out who "The Legs" was. He smiled as he realized that was as close a name he was going to get.
But, yes. The Legs was the first. John knew that. She was the first, and then came the other two: The Nose, and River.
John sat up, and walked to the window. He looked out and sae the fields of tall grass that went up to almost you hips… You could hear the insects buzzing and chirping. It was full of life. John cocked his head as he caught a flash of something. There… there was a flash of black… and red?
John concentrated, and saw a little girl running, obviously smiling, just 25 feet away from John's house, which was really just a shack in a grass field. The girl, was wearing a black coat, or was it navy blue? John wasn't sure. Though, he did wonder why a girl was wearing a coat when it was about... 25 degrees celcius out? But, he could see bright, flaming, red hair, blowing in the wind from under the crimson cap. Was it a cap? The girl was running, and running, and John thought he could hear her laughter all the way from where he was standing.
"Amelia," John croaked, his voice hoarse. The girl stopped running, and seemed to vanish into thin air in a blink of an eye. It dawned upon John, that this was the first time John had spoken ever since stepping off the blasted Hogwarts Express. He hadn't uttered a word in weeks. But then again, time was fuzzy, and wibbly, and confusing as all hell, because it seemed like just yesterday, John had once again entered his shack.
John said again, "Amelia!" There was an urgency in his voice, because he remembered now. She was his friend… And she had died? Yes… That was it. But, at that moment, John wanted nothing more to disappear like his hallucination of his friend did. There was a pricking feeling in his eye, and tightening in his chest, the constriction of his breathing… And, and, he was crying. When was the last time John had cried? What… Three years? More? He didn't know. All he did know though, was that he desperately wanted his friend, Amelia, back, because she always knew what to do. And, she was the closest friend he ever had. No matter how much he cared for Ginger, no matter how much she reminded him of Amelia, there was that empty void space of wanting his real friend back. And, he realized that was something Clara wasn't able to offer.
All he wanted was some companionship, in this lonely, lonely place. He had literally no one. Which was why, when John got the letter saying that he got a ticket for the Ireland vs. Bulgaria Quidditch game, he had been so scared. Because, who sent it?
