Notes: Oh, this one gets me. Every time. It's just a very different idea that I love, and I'm hope you enjoy it too. I'll be doing Albus Dumbledore, Ginny Weasley, Mineva McGonagall, Mad-Eye Moody... and that's all I've had written down so far. More will be added, hopefully, and feel free to suggest any of your favourite characters! Thank you, and enjoy!
For some reason, Colin hasn't ever thought of the words "middle-aged."
At eight years old - sorry, Colin - at eight and a half years old, Colin Creevey is a special child who is bright, enthusiastic and maybe a little bit too knowledgeable for this world, but no matter. He'll be great, fascinating, worth it, if not happy.
He's fascinated by his dad's new camera - far from state of the art, massive, and perfect - and eagerly takes pictures of every moment, every breath, until he is sure there are no more pictures left to be taken.
His very first photograph is of his dog, Mr. McGraw.
Mr. McGraw isa huge monster of a golden retriever, with a huge of mane of dark gold fur, and just standing, he towers above poor, little Colin. His picture is of Mr. McGraw nudging a pigeon that had fallen out of its nest in the trees above, pawing the ground slightly as if in worry.
Because, despite the fact he has the stature, mane and growl of a lion, Mr. McGraw is a softie at heart, and the pigeon turns out alright in the end.
Maybe Colin doesn't need a picture of his mum throwing flour at his dad, but the flour looks like snow, and he finds it captivating in a way only children can.
They're both grinning wide, open smiles that seemed to be so rare, even so young.
It's beautiful, and sometimes he even sees the flour as glittered even if it doesn't sparkle quite so much anymore.
Maybe he doesn't need to snap a quick picture as he falls off his bicycle, but the angle is interesting and his feet look funny that way up anyway. And even if he gets a scraped knee and a broken wrist for his effort, at least he gets a photo out of it too.
Colin is a small boy, but he isn't teased for whatever reason, maybe because he has that joyful, knowing smile that draws people to him.
He doesn't have close friends, or any friends at all really, but he's the type of boy who is happy with the family he is given and, though it would be nice, he's content with not having anything else.
He has his pictures, after all. And they tell a story of his Muggle life, his life before Magic and mystery and pictures that move, and for that, they are sacred.
And Colin, right now?
He isn't thinking of secondary school or homework or classes or girls or relationships or magic or anything else that may or may not come in time.
He thinks of toys and football and daydreaming, but not the future.
After all, not many eight and a half year olds think of or even know the words "middle-aged."