I don't own Harry potter. I never have, never will. ~sighs~ Well, on with
the story.
My summer passed by slowly, too slowly.
The letters. I sent you quite a few. Now why no reply? Have you forgotten about me? I am now meaning nothing to you?
I scan the sky, hoping for an owl. One comes and I get excited. Yet it isn't from you, but Ron. He tells me you somehow appeared over night. I highly doubt that. I'm guessing it has something to do with Fred or George. I get invited to stay the summer.
I eagerly go and ask my parents if I can spend the remaining time with Ron. At first, they are skeptical... me, spending the rest of the summer with a family they only have met for a few minutes before? I don't think that's it, but they allow me to stay. At least I get to see you again.
As soon as I appear, I franticly look around for you. Once I find you, I give you a hug. I've missed you. Have you missed me? I dare not ask.
You sleep in a room with Ron, I with Ginny. Every night I creep out and watch you, hoping Ginny or her mum doesn't wake up and check on me.
I sit on the side of your bed, just looking at you. Oh, how I've missed you. How I'd love to tell you... but I can't. It would hurt me... it would hurt everybody.
It's the same thing, even here at Ron's: you change out of view, go to sleep, don't move, clench your hands into fists, leaving blood, wake at every noise, the break of dawn.
I walk to take your hand. As I get near, you stir. I stop, hoping you don't wake up. I think you are awake, even though you don't open your eyes. After a while, you fall asleep again. I watch you chest rise and fall, so I know you really are asleep.
I come, take your hand. You gasp and wake up, pulling away from my hand. I wonder... that's never happened before. Oh, sure... you wake up scared, but never pull away. What has happened to make you do such a thing?
Once you fall asleep, I carefully sit next to you, waking you again. I silently curse myself for it. You need your sleep.
You start to move toward me. I want to move, but then you'd know I was there for certain. I hold my breath. You stop, shaking your head like your crazy.
I sit there for what seems like an eternity. You finally go all the way back to sleep and I edge myself off your bed, to go and get some well- deserved sleep. To think... I was so stupid as not to bring my potions with me. I watch you closely. You seemed to be awed with the house. Sure, you're not used to mirrors barking out their opinions, but nether am I.
Days in and days out pass by, slowly, as I watch you. Watch you try to... possibly be more like a Weasley? Have they somehow adopted you, Harry? You're not safe here, Harry... I don't even know why Dumbledor let you stay as long as you have. Oh, now I sound like I'm complaining, but I'm not.
Soon enough, it's time for our trip to Diagon Alley. What's this they're trying to tell us? Traveling by floo? It's weird enough as it is, but by fire? First Fred followed by George, and Mr. Weasley go. Then you go, coughing D-Dia-gon Alley. I don't think you did it right.
Sure enough, when I arrive, right after you, there's no sign of you anywhere. Out pops Ron followed shortly after by a very frantic looking Mrs. Weasley.
The Weasley's head off in one direction, to go and wait. But I'm too impatient. I go off the other way. Soon enough, I see Hagrid leading you out of Knockturn Alley. I ask what happened to your glasses... not a very good, erm... pick up line?
I quickly say hi to Hagrid, saying it's wonderful to see you both. Then I ask if you're coming along to Gringotts, trying to avoid the fact that you are.
You look at me like I'm strange. 'Well,' myself said, 'you really can't blame him, can you?' I tell you to 'come on' and we go head for the rest of the Weasley bunch, saying our byes to Hagrid.
We're very lucky that Mrs. Weasley doesn't blame you. We go off on our own, showing up at the bookstore when we're supposed to. I'm so excited to meet Lockhart! Am I? I mean, you're...
Lockhart drags you up to get a photo with him for the Daily Prophet. I can tell you really don't want to, but who can blame you Harry?
Once you get away from Professor Lockhart, you bump into... him. Malfoy. The real disgrace to the name of wizards. He ridicules you, he ridicules Ron, he ridicules me. If Hagrid hadn't come along, again, and broke up the fight... it really would have gotten bloody.
We go back to The Leaky Cauldron, saying our byes to my parents this time.
Back at the Burrow...
You go up to pack, I go and excuse myself with no more than saying I'm simply tired. I pop on my invisibility cloak, leaving Ginny a note that I had decided to take a walk instead.
Is this going to be exactly like the last night of Hogwarts?
You go up, really do finish packing, but pick up a book. Well, at least it looks like a book. You go over to the desk, put it down, and open to the first page. I walk over, not sure of what I'll see.
A photo album. The one Hagrid gave to you, end of last year. I read:
Property of:
James Potter
And
Lily Evens
Scribbled next to it is your name.
You turn the page. I see what I assume to be your parents, holding a baby Harry. I see another man, who looks much like your father, holding you. On the next page, I see a brown haired man holding you. Then a very stout man, holding a younger you.
Wizard pictures, I presume, seeing as they're moving. You turn the page. A picture taking up one page looks back at me. Your parents and you look so content. I see the date. I shriek inwards. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Taken the day your parent died.
A terrified Lily runs out of the picture, motioning for you and your dad to come.
As I wonder what that means, I soon find out. Drip, drip, drop, drip. I turn to face you, wondering what the matter is. I soon find out that tears have escaped.
You wipe them away as soon as they came. You turn the page. A picture of Ron looks up at me. He's smiling and joking. On the next page, a me looks back at me. I'm sitting on one of the common room chairs, scribbling over homework. I look up and blush, not noticing that someone had taken my picture moments before.
The three of us take up the rest of the book. One lone picture of you standing next to your broom catches my eye. It's hand-drawn.
My summer passed by slowly, too slowly.
The letters. I sent you quite a few. Now why no reply? Have you forgotten about me? I am now meaning nothing to you?
I scan the sky, hoping for an owl. One comes and I get excited. Yet it isn't from you, but Ron. He tells me you somehow appeared over night. I highly doubt that. I'm guessing it has something to do with Fred or George. I get invited to stay the summer.
I eagerly go and ask my parents if I can spend the remaining time with Ron. At first, they are skeptical... me, spending the rest of the summer with a family they only have met for a few minutes before? I don't think that's it, but they allow me to stay. At least I get to see you again.
As soon as I appear, I franticly look around for you. Once I find you, I give you a hug. I've missed you. Have you missed me? I dare not ask.
You sleep in a room with Ron, I with Ginny. Every night I creep out and watch you, hoping Ginny or her mum doesn't wake up and check on me.
I sit on the side of your bed, just looking at you. Oh, how I've missed you. How I'd love to tell you... but I can't. It would hurt me... it would hurt everybody.
It's the same thing, even here at Ron's: you change out of view, go to sleep, don't move, clench your hands into fists, leaving blood, wake at every noise, the break of dawn.
I walk to take your hand. As I get near, you stir. I stop, hoping you don't wake up. I think you are awake, even though you don't open your eyes. After a while, you fall asleep again. I watch you chest rise and fall, so I know you really are asleep.
I come, take your hand. You gasp and wake up, pulling away from my hand. I wonder... that's never happened before. Oh, sure... you wake up scared, but never pull away. What has happened to make you do such a thing?
Once you fall asleep, I carefully sit next to you, waking you again. I silently curse myself for it. You need your sleep.
You start to move toward me. I want to move, but then you'd know I was there for certain. I hold my breath. You stop, shaking your head like your crazy.
I sit there for what seems like an eternity. You finally go all the way back to sleep and I edge myself off your bed, to go and get some well- deserved sleep. To think... I was so stupid as not to bring my potions with me. I watch you closely. You seemed to be awed with the house. Sure, you're not used to mirrors barking out their opinions, but nether am I.
Days in and days out pass by, slowly, as I watch you. Watch you try to... possibly be more like a Weasley? Have they somehow adopted you, Harry? You're not safe here, Harry... I don't even know why Dumbledor let you stay as long as you have. Oh, now I sound like I'm complaining, but I'm not.
Soon enough, it's time for our trip to Diagon Alley. What's this they're trying to tell us? Traveling by floo? It's weird enough as it is, but by fire? First Fred followed by George, and Mr. Weasley go. Then you go, coughing D-Dia-gon Alley. I don't think you did it right.
Sure enough, when I arrive, right after you, there's no sign of you anywhere. Out pops Ron followed shortly after by a very frantic looking Mrs. Weasley.
The Weasley's head off in one direction, to go and wait. But I'm too impatient. I go off the other way. Soon enough, I see Hagrid leading you out of Knockturn Alley. I ask what happened to your glasses... not a very good, erm... pick up line?
I quickly say hi to Hagrid, saying it's wonderful to see you both. Then I ask if you're coming along to Gringotts, trying to avoid the fact that you are.
You look at me like I'm strange. 'Well,' myself said, 'you really can't blame him, can you?' I tell you to 'come on' and we go head for the rest of the Weasley bunch, saying our byes to Hagrid.
We're very lucky that Mrs. Weasley doesn't blame you. We go off on our own, showing up at the bookstore when we're supposed to. I'm so excited to meet Lockhart! Am I? I mean, you're...
Lockhart drags you up to get a photo with him for the Daily Prophet. I can tell you really don't want to, but who can blame you Harry?
Once you get away from Professor Lockhart, you bump into... him. Malfoy. The real disgrace to the name of wizards. He ridicules you, he ridicules Ron, he ridicules me. If Hagrid hadn't come along, again, and broke up the fight... it really would have gotten bloody.
We go back to The Leaky Cauldron, saying our byes to my parents this time.
Back at the Burrow...
You go up to pack, I go and excuse myself with no more than saying I'm simply tired. I pop on my invisibility cloak, leaving Ginny a note that I had decided to take a walk instead.
Is this going to be exactly like the last night of Hogwarts?
You go up, really do finish packing, but pick up a book. Well, at least it looks like a book. You go over to the desk, put it down, and open to the first page. I walk over, not sure of what I'll see.
A photo album. The one Hagrid gave to you, end of last year. I read:
Property of:
James Potter
And
Lily Evens
Scribbled next to it is your name.
You turn the page. I see what I assume to be your parents, holding a baby Harry. I see another man, who looks much like your father, holding you. On the next page, I see a brown haired man holding you. Then a very stout man, holding a younger you.
Wizard pictures, I presume, seeing as they're moving. You turn the page. A picture taking up one page looks back at me. Your parents and you look so content. I see the date. I shriek inwards. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Taken the day your parent died.
A terrified Lily runs out of the picture, motioning for you and your dad to come.
As I wonder what that means, I soon find out. Drip, drip, drop, drip. I turn to face you, wondering what the matter is. I soon find out that tears have escaped.
You wipe them away as soon as they came. You turn the page. A picture of Ron looks up at me. He's smiling and joking. On the next page, a me looks back at me. I'm sitting on one of the common room chairs, scribbling over homework. I look up and blush, not noticing that someone had taken my picture moments before.
The three of us take up the rest of the book. One lone picture of you standing next to your broom catches my eye. It's hand-drawn.