James Potter
.
Why do I do the things I do? It is a question that has wandered through my mind often and yet one that is nearly impossible to answer. I'm immature; nobody needs to inform me of this because it has already been brought to my attention on numerous occasions. I don't know why I act the way I do… it's an instinct that I don't have the strength to control. But, I was not always this way…
I glanced at the headline of the Daily Prophet article from yesterday, which I had been mindlessly doodling a 45 in the corner of.
"Two More Aurors Killed in Deadly Duel"
I guess I became the way I am today after I became aware of the affairs of the world. Voldemort's indirect power over my life scared the shit out of me… and suddenly my life was pulled inside out. I lost something inside of me, a naïve happiness that I carried around like a shield. I didn't know what was gone then, all I knew was that I was not the same James Potter as I used to be, and I hated the new me. I didn't know how to move past all of the emotions and insecurities I felt inside, so I went back to the only things I knew: I digressed into my ten/eleven-year-old self.
I picked up my quill as Professor Binns continued on with his lecture. Instinctly, I traced and retraced that date on the top of my other-wise blank piece of parchment.
December 29, 1975. Only 2 more days left in the year. You can look at it as only two more days left to make this past year worthwhile, or two more days before starting fresh. I think I'll opt for the latter, and make my resolution for 1976 to act my age.
Is it just me, or do you always expect something grand to happen when the clock hits midnight on New Years Eve? I always expect a huge explosion or the world to suddenly look different or everyone to morph into giant killer reindeers. I don't know, maybe that's the motives behind the superstitions... everyone has these expectations of greatness with the oncoming beginning, and call me a cynic, but most of those expectations are never granted.
"James," I turned around to find Lily Evans whispering my name. "Erm- you dropped this."
She handed me a spare piece of parchment, which I honestly don't think I ever dropped, but take because she was offering it to me. As I'm about to put it in my bag, I see a note scribbled on the corner in small, neat handwriting.
In case you didn't know, next weekend we're allowed in Hogsmeade, and if you ask me to go, I may not say no.
I turn around to look back at her, and see the beautiful goddess behind me purposefully concentrating on Professor Binns, a blush creeping on her cheeks.
And recent moments like these have led me to believe that maybe... just maybe... this is going to be the year when something happens.