Reflections of a Best Friend
Home always had a good smell to it. Maybe it was the food we ate, or what Mum cleaned with, or maybe it was just all that junk that was collecting dust, but it smelt good. It was always nice to be home. Fred and George helped me take my stuff upstairs, I was dead tired and they had nothing better to do.
They'd decided to keep living here, for a while at least. I don't know if they'll decide to stay once they'd got their shop running. Maybe they'll just decide to live above it; that way they won't have Mum and Dad screaming at them for blowing up a dungbomb at three in the morning.
I sat down in my room, not really wanting to start unpacking. My mind started to drift around my room; looking at all the stuff I had piled up. There were lots of clothes littering the floor, a ton of Quidditch books wherever you looked, and even a few Easter eggs; I thought that it might be a good idea to clean up, before the eggs got too rotten.
Sighing I picked myself up and began to tackle the mass of clutter that was my room. Well, it wasn't clutter so much as it was an organized mess, whose filing system had been long forgotten. I began digging through it all, sorting it into smaller piles of junk. Soon I'd gotten all my clothes in one pile for washing, all my Quidditch books by my bed, and those Easter eggs in the trash; but I still had a large box of trinkets I'd brought back from school. I opened it up and started trying to sort out the useful stuff from the junk. Extra quills, potions ingredients, and a little bit of money all ended up in a sort of neat pile on my bed, but I threw Hermione's homework planner into the trash; I'd had enough of it yelling at me that my Divination was 3 weeks overdue.
Then I came across something else, I didn't really know what it was at first. It was a small ornament I'd had left over from when we had decorated Sirius' place at Christmas. He had been happier than I'd ever seen him then. Full of joy, caroling with us all; he was a fine sight.
Then the bottom fell out of my stomach as I remembered; Sirius was gone now.
He had died while I was making an ass of myself, high off a spell. I wished I could have done something to save him. I wished I could do something to help Harry.
I'd known Harry for five years, almost six. He was the strongest person I'd ever known. He was brave, skilled, smart, but also tragic. He'd been through hell, and there was nothing I could do for him. We'd been through just about everything together.
I remembered how we'd gotten to the Philosopher's Stone together. I'd been knocked out in a game of chess, but once I'd come to I'd done everything I could to help Harry. When he came out of there unconscious I could barely breathe. But he'd been ok then, he'd pulled through and everything was fine again.
I remembered how we'd had to follow Hagrid's stupid spiders and ended up in the middle of Aragog's lair; that'd been a load of fun. But we'd gotten out of there too. It was just something about Harry, he wouldn't let himself or anyone else die there. He'd gotten us out again.
He'd rescued Ginny, killed a basilisk, saved Buckbeak, freed Sirius, fended off a hundred Dementors, out flown a dragon, rescued me from the bottom of the lake, gone through a maze of monsters, and fought You-Know-Who four times. He'd been the strongest person I'd ever know. He'd gotten through everything the world had thrown at him. Him and me and Hermione.
But I wondered if he could get through this? Could he make it through this last blow? We'd been there to help him where we could, but what could we have done for him with Sirius gone? Every time we'd tried to get close to him, to comfort him, he'd pushed us away.
Not that 'Mione was much help; every time she'd seen him she'd tried to start talking about Sirius and how much more at peace he'd be now. Bugger that. Sirius needed to be alive. Sirius would've been much happier knowing that Harry was safe, that much I knew about him. He'd eaten rats for Harry, rats! Sirius had done everything for Harry's good. Harry knew that, hell, even I knew that.
I was still thinking about if me and 'Mione could help him through it? Did he want our help? He'd built up walls around himself and wouldn't let them down for anyone, not even me, and I was his best friend. Hermione was always talking to herself about what Harry was thinking about, wasn't it obvious? You'd think someone as smart as her would be able to tell that Harry was grieving.
I wondered what I should be doing for Harry. He was my best friend, how was I supposed to act right now? 'Mione was always much better at this than me; she was the feelings person; I was the Quidditch person.
Should I be trying to help him or give him space?
If I was going to leave him alone, for how long? I couldn't just let him sit there forever. His grief could completely dominate him.
If I was going to help him what should I do? Should I try and comfort him and tell him it was going to be all right? Should I try and give him a little speech on how Sirius didn't have to fight anymore and that death couldn't be so bad? What had Dumbledore said? That to the well organized mind death was nothing but the next great adventure? Should I try and tell him that?
God people are confusing, I thought; it drove me insane. I was just too indecisive about everything. I started thinking that life would be much easier if it were Quidditch. You take the quaffle and throw it in a hoop. You guard your own hoop. You knock bludgers at your opponents. You catch the snitch to end the game. The simplicity was nice.
In life you've got to worry about too many things. You've got to think about what's happened, what's happening right now, and what's going to happen. It's not just opponents and teammates in life either; you've got to try and sort out who's what and sometimes they're both. It's not as simple as throwing the ball in the hoop and catching the snitch, you've got to figure out what you want, how you're going to get it. But once you do what you want has changed and so have you. Then there are everybody's feelings. It's all just a jumble to me, far too complex.
I sighed. I'd just go with my gut instinct and my gut was telling me I was hungry. But just as I was turning to head downstairs an owl burst through the window, dropped a letter and flew out.
It was a letter from Hermione telling me that I should write to Harry like she'd already done. She said I should be nice, but not too sappy. Try to console him, but not make it sound like I was preaching. I should say what I felt, but "don't say anything stupid", it read.
I almost screamed.
Life would be so much easier if it were Quidditch I swear.
Home always had a good smell to it. Maybe it was the food we ate, or what Mum cleaned with, or maybe it was just all that junk that was collecting dust, but it smelt good. It was always nice to be home. Fred and George helped me take my stuff upstairs, I was dead tired and they had nothing better to do.
They'd decided to keep living here, for a while at least. I don't know if they'll decide to stay once they'd got their shop running. Maybe they'll just decide to live above it; that way they won't have Mum and Dad screaming at them for blowing up a dungbomb at three in the morning.
I sat down in my room, not really wanting to start unpacking. My mind started to drift around my room; looking at all the stuff I had piled up. There were lots of clothes littering the floor, a ton of Quidditch books wherever you looked, and even a few Easter eggs; I thought that it might be a good idea to clean up, before the eggs got too rotten.
Sighing I picked myself up and began to tackle the mass of clutter that was my room. Well, it wasn't clutter so much as it was an organized mess, whose filing system had been long forgotten. I began digging through it all, sorting it into smaller piles of junk. Soon I'd gotten all my clothes in one pile for washing, all my Quidditch books by my bed, and those Easter eggs in the trash; but I still had a large box of trinkets I'd brought back from school. I opened it up and started trying to sort out the useful stuff from the junk. Extra quills, potions ingredients, and a little bit of money all ended up in a sort of neat pile on my bed, but I threw Hermione's homework planner into the trash; I'd had enough of it yelling at me that my Divination was 3 weeks overdue.
Then I came across something else, I didn't really know what it was at first. It was a small ornament I'd had left over from when we had decorated Sirius' place at Christmas. He had been happier than I'd ever seen him then. Full of joy, caroling with us all; he was a fine sight.
Then the bottom fell out of my stomach as I remembered; Sirius was gone now.
He had died while I was making an ass of myself, high off a spell. I wished I could have done something to save him. I wished I could do something to help Harry.
I'd known Harry for five years, almost six. He was the strongest person I'd ever known. He was brave, skilled, smart, but also tragic. He'd been through hell, and there was nothing I could do for him. We'd been through just about everything together.
I remembered how we'd gotten to the Philosopher's Stone together. I'd been knocked out in a game of chess, but once I'd come to I'd done everything I could to help Harry. When he came out of there unconscious I could barely breathe. But he'd been ok then, he'd pulled through and everything was fine again.
I remembered how we'd had to follow Hagrid's stupid spiders and ended up in the middle of Aragog's lair; that'd been a load of fun. But we'd gotten out of there too. It was just something about Harry, he wouldn't let himself or anyone else die there. He'd gotten us out again.
He'd rescued Ginny, killed a basilisk, saved Buckbeak, freed Sirius, fended off a hundred Dementors, out flown a dragon, rescued me from the bottom of the lake, gone through a maze of monsters, and fought You-Know-Who four times. He'd been the strongest person I'd ever know. He'd gotten through everything the world had thrown at him. Him and me and Hermione.
But I wondered if he could get through this? Could he make it through this last blow? We'd been there to help him where we could, but what could we have done for him with Sirius gone? Every time we'd tried to get close to him, to comfort him, he'd pushed us away.
Not that 'Mione was much help; every time she'd seen him she'd tried to start talking about Sirius and how much more at peace he'd be now. Bugger that. Sirius needed to be alive. Sirius would've been much happier knowing that Harry was safe, that much I knew about him. He'd eaten rats for Harry, rats! Sirius had done everything for Harry's good. Harry knew that, hell, even I knew that.
I was still thinking about if me and 'Mione could help him through it? Did he want our help? He'd built up walls around himself and wouldn't let them down for anyone, not even me, and I was his best friend. Hermione was always talking to herself about what Harry was thinking about, wasn't it obvious? You'd think someone as smart as her would be able to tell that Harry was grieving.
I wondered what I should be doing for Harry. He was my best friend, how was I supposed to act right now? 'Mione was always much better at this than me; she was the feelings person; I was the Quidditch person.
Should I be trying to help him or give him space?
If I was going to leave him alone, for how long? I couldn't just let him sit there forever. His grief could completely dominate him.
If I was going to help him what should I do? Should I try and comfort him and tell him it was going to be all right? Should I try and give him a little speech on how Sirius didn't have to fight anymore and that death couldn't be so bad? What had Dumbledore said? That to the well organized mind death was nothing but the next great adventure? Should I try and tell him that?
God people are confusing, I thought; it drove me insane. I was just too indecisive about everything. I started thinking that life would be much easier if it were Quidditch. You take the quaffle and throw it in a hoop. You guard your own hoop. You knock bludgers at your opponents. You catch the snitch to end the game. The simplicity was nice.
In life you've got to worry about too many things. You've got to think about what's happened, what's happening right now, and what's going to happen. It's not just opponents and teammates in life either; you've got to try and sort out who's what and sometimes they're both. It's not as simple as throwing the ball in the hoop and catching the snitch, you've got to figure out what you want, how you're going to get it. But once you do what you want has changed and so have you. Then there are everybody's feelings. It's all just a jumble to me, far too complex.
I sighed. I'd just go with my gut instinct and my gut was telling me I was hungry. But just as I was turning to head downstairs an owl burst through the window, dropped a letter and flew out.
It was a letter from Hermione telling me that I should write to Harry like she'd already done. She said I should be nice, but not too sappy. Try to console him, but not make it sound like I was preaching. I should say what I felt, but "don't say anything stupid", it read.
I almost screamed.
Life would be so much easier if it were Quidditch I swear.