Chapter Three
Wounds so deep they never show
They never go away
Like moving pictures in my head
For years and years they've played
I watched as Harry left. I watched as Harry boarded the plane. I watched as he talked to the flight attendant-who no doubt reminds him of the Weasley girl-and I watched as he told her to call him James. And I still can't understand.
Yes, he lost his friends. No, he didn't have to leave. Yes, he hates me. No, I don't hate him. Yes, he thinks I'm a Death Eater, but no, I am not.
He wasn't the only one in pain as they killed all the muggle-borns. He wasn't the only one who wanted to stop them, but couldn't. He wasn't the only one who was against them, but couldn't stop them.
I sat on the sidelines, watching as they took the lives of thousands and thousands of innocent students. I watched as they took the life of both my friends and Harry's, and I looked away as they tortured Harry. It was the one thing I could not stand to watch, however much the killings bugged me.
Now I'm sitting in the airport in Los Angeles, California, watching as Harry grabs his bags from the baggage area, talking to that Cloe girl all the way. I already hate her.
I can't believe I'm here. I came for him, and yet. he's not really there, is he? I mean, he's there, but. I can't let him know that I'm here. He'll get scared.. I don't want him to think I'm stalking him.
Well, I am.. But only to make sure he's alright here. Before Dumbledore died, he assigned to a mission I didn't quite enjoy. Then.
He told me to watch after Harry, make sure that Harry's okay, make sure he's not in danger. Never let Harry know I'm there. Make sure Potter has everything he bloody wants.
That's what I used to think of it. At first, I only watched him because I was assigned to. I didn't want to upset the great Albus Dumbledore, in any way. But then. it became interesting. Dumbledore gave me an invisibility cloak and the Gryffindor password after I had gained his trust. To make sure Harry didn't Floo anywhere or climb out his window.
So I watched him day and night, like the good little boy I am. And I never let him know I was there. And I never let him get caught in too sticky a situation.
Yes, I did let small things slip. Like, for instance, when Crabbe and Goyle got mad at that Granger girl for ruining their potion.. I let that slide. It's fun to watch Potter worm his way out of tricky situations.
But now I'm here. I don't know why. The danger's gone, Voldemort's dead, and there is no death threat hanging over Harry's head. It's a hard habit to shake, watching him, and I'm not planning on stopping. Even if he finds out.
He walks into the busy lobby of the airport, and I'm up. I can't lose him in the crowd. or else I may never find him again.
Harry waves quickly to Cloe, and goes down a set of stairs. He runs a hand through his hair, looking around. He's obviously confused. He didn't realize that the shuttle going into town was two floors down, as the sign said half a mile back down the jam-packed hallway.
I'm trained to notice these things. It comes in handy sometimes.
I want to tell him.. I want to walk right up to him and say hello. I want to be civilized with him, tell him what's going on, why I'm still here, why-even after Dumbledore died-I am still following him. But I can't. I will keep my word to Dumbledore for as long as I can-which isn't saying much.
So far I've kept my promise for two years.
He looks in my direction, and I duck behind a bench, crouching down so he couldn't see me over the crowd.
When I look back, he's gone.
"Damn."
Wounds so deep they never show
They never go away
Like moving pictures in my head
For years and years they've played
I watched as Harry left. I watched as Harry boarded the plane. I watched as he talked to the flight attendant-who no doubt reminds him of the Weasley girl-and I watched as he told her to call him James. And I still can't understand.
Yes, he lost his friends. No, he didn't have to leave. Yes, he hates me. No, I don't hate him. Yes, he thinks I'm a Death Eater, but no, I am not.
He wasn't the only one in pain as they killed all the muggle-borns. He wasn't the only one who wanted to stop them, but couldn't. He wasn't the only one who was against them, but couldn't stop them.
I sat on the sidelines, watching as they took the lives of thousands and thousands of innocent students. I watched as they took the life of both my friends and Harry's, and I looked away as they tortured Harry. It was the one thing I could not stand to watch, however much the killings bugged me.
Now I'm sitting in the airport in Los Angeles, California, watching as Harry grabs his bags from the baggage area, talking to that Cloe girl all the way. I already hate her.
I can't believe I'm here. I came for him, and yet. he's not really there, is he? I mean, he's there, but. I can't let him know that I'm here. He'll get scared.. I don't want him to think I'm stalking him.
Well, I am.. But only to make sure he's alright here. Before Dumbledore died, he assigned to a mission I didn't quite enjoy. Then.
He told me to watch after Harry, make sure that Harry's okay, make sure he's not in danger. Never let Harry know I'm there. Make sure Potter has everything he bloody wants.
That's what I used to think of it. At first, I only watched him because I was assigned to. I didn't want to upset the great Albus Dumbledore, in any way. But then. it became interesting. Dumbledore gave me an invisibility cloak and the Gryffindor password after I had gained his trust. To make sure Harry didn't Floo anywhere or climb out his window.
So I watched him day and night, like the good little boy I am. And I never let him know I was there. And I never let him get caught in too sticky a situation.
Yes, I did let small things slip. Like, for instance, when Crabbe and Goyle got mad at that Granger girl for ruining their potion.. I let that slide. It's fun to watch Potter worm his way out of tricky situations.
But now I'm here. I don't know why. The danger's gone, Voldemort's dead, and there is no death threat hanging over Harry's head. It's a hard habit to shake, watching him, and I'm not planning on stopping. Even if he finds out.
He walks into the busy lobby of the airport, and I'm up. I can't lose him in the crowd. or else I may never find him again.
Harry waves quickly to Cloe, and goes down a set of stairs. He runs a hand through his hair, looking around. He's obviously confused. He didn't realize that the shuttle going into town was two floors down, as the sign said half a mile back down the jam-packed hallway.
I'm trained to notice these things. It comes in handy sometimes.
I want to tell him.. I want to walk right up to him and say hello. I want to be civilized with him, tell him what's going on, why I'm still here, why-even after Dumbledore died-I am still following him. But I can't. I will keep my word to Dumbledore for as long as I can-which isn't saying much.
So far I've kept my promise for two years.
He looks in my direction, and I duck behind a bench, crouching down so he couldn't see me over the crowd.
When I look back, he's gone.
"Damn."