Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I do,
however, own several "Magical Harry" action figures. No, they aren't Harry
Potter! They're "Magical Harry"!!
Class Clown
Chapter Three of the Hogwarts Diaries
By Sienna Moony
Everyone sees me as the sidekick. The OTHER funny guy. Or, worse, the responsible one. I learned several years ago that I depended on my sense of humor to get by, and now my best friends outshine me in every single way, and its impossible to catch even a fragment of their limelight.
When I was a child, my mother never paid any attention to me. Instead, it was her endless number of boyfriends that occupied her time. I suppose she was lonely, trying to make up for my father's death, and hoping it would help me, too.
"This is Uncle Travis," She'd say, or "Meet your Uncle Henry."
But I didn't need a string of "Uncles". I just needed a friend. When I started at a Muggle school, things just went wrong. Kids would make fun of my mother, and I would grow angry and things would start to happen. I could get away with them at first. If a boy suddenly lost all of his teeth, they'd try to help him, blaming it on some freak medical condition. A girl suddenly started throwing up frog spawn, and they had a hard time covering that one up. No one could even point the finger at me, of course. How could I possibly do those things? It wasn't logical.
My fellows students knew. The teasing grew worse, but they were afraid to go anywhere near me. They'd call me "witch" behind my back, and I'd have to walk away, pretending I hadn't heart. I'd run home crying, but my only comfort would be a note lying on the kitchen table.
"Gone out with Uncle _____, supper's in the oven."
One day, their harsh words pushed me too far, and rocks started flying up and pelting them in the head. I don't know whether it was the situation itself or just the magic that caused me to collapse from exhaustion, but I awoke a while later in my bed at home, Mom standing over me with a frightened expression on her face. I still don't know whether she was frightened FOR me, or just frightened OF me.
After that, she tried to stay home more often, arranging mother-son times for us. It was a nice try, but it just didn't work out. She never wanted to talk about what had happened. I guess her will to leave it be affected mine, and when I changed schools, I forgot about everything that had happened. It was like a brick wall went up around anything that had to do with my powers, and I put all my energy into being the class clown.
For once in my life, it made me popular. I had friends, though I got in trouble for making mischief, and I told myself I was happy, even though I missed the magic I knew I'd had. I thought I'd lost if for good until I got the letter from Hogwarts inviting me to go there. Mom burst into tears when I received it in the post, but she still bought all my things and drove me to the station to see me off. I never talk to her much anymore, though I go home on Holidays. I just remembered how she was never surprised that I was what I was, just. . . hurt.
I wonder if Dad was a wizard, too. I wonder if she sees him in me, and that's what makes her sad.
I'm not the class clown anymore, even though I try. I crave the attention, but with best friends like Fred and George, its nearly impossible to bring any my way, other than at the odd Quidditch game where I have a voice.
I suppose I should get used to being ignored.
Yours Truly,
Lee Jordan.
Class Clown
Chapter Three of the Hogwarts Diaries
By Sienna Moony
Everyone sees me as the sidekick. The OTHER funny guy. Or, worse, the responsible one. I learned several years ago that I depended on my sense of humor to get by, and now my best friends outshine me in every single way, and its impossible to catch even a fragment of their limelight.
When I was a child, my mother never paid any attention to me. Instead, it was her endless number of boyfriends that occupied her time. I suppose she was lonely, trying to make up for my father's death, and hoping it would help me, too.
"This is Uncle Travis," She'd say, or "Meet your Uncle Henry."
But I didn't need a string of "Uncles". I just needed a friend. When I started at a Muggle school, things just went wrong. Kids would make fun of my mother, and I would grow angry and things would start to happen. I could get away with them at first. If a boy suddenly lost all of his teeth, they'd try to help him, blaming it on some freak medical condition. A girl suddenly started throwing up frog spawn, and they had a hard time covering that one up. No one could even point the finger at me, of course. How could I possibly do those things? It wasn't logical.
My fellows students knew. The teasing grew worse, but they were afraid to go anywhere near me. They'd call me "witch" behind my back, and I'd have to walk away, pretending I hadn't heart. I'd run home crying, but my only comfort would be a note lying on the kitchen table.
"Gone out with Uncle _____, supper's in the oven."
One day, their harsh words pushed me too far, and rocks started flying up and pelting them in the head. I don't know whether it was the situation itself or just the magic that caused me to collapse from exhaustion, but I awoke a while later in my bed at home, Mom standing over me with a frightened expression on her face. I still don't know whether she was frightened FOR me, or just frightened OF me.
After that, she tried to stay home more often, arranging mother-son times for us. It was a nice try, but it just didn't work out. She never wanted to talk about what had happened. I guess her will to leave it be affected mine, and when I changed schools, I forgot about everything that had happened. It was like a brick wall went up around anything that had to do with my powers, and I put all my energy into being the class clown.
For once in my life, it made me popular. I had friends, though I got in trouble for making mischief, and I told myself I was happy, even though I missed the magic I knew I'd had. I thought I'd lost if for good until I got the letter from Hogwarts inviting me to go there. Mom burst into tears when I received it in the post, but she still bought all my things and drove me to the station to see me off. I never talk to her much anymore, though I go home on Holidays. I just remembered how she was never surprised that I was what I was, just. . . hurt.
I wonder if Dad was a wizard, too. I wonder if she sees him in me, and that's what makes her sad.
I'm not the class clown anymore, even though I try. I crave the attention, but with best friends like Fred and George, its nearly impossible to bring any my way, other than at the odd Quidditch game where I have a voice.
I suppose I should get used to being ignored.
Yours Truly,
Lee Jordan.