"The Man Who Sold the World"
by: BobDole77
MAN'S POV
We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago
I remember the day clearly. It was a Tuesday; I had gone out for milk (Malorie had been bothering me about it earlier). I had just enough with me, glad I didn't have to break a twenty. I was on my way up the stairs from the subway. I had come in from London and Surrey was the first stop—my home. Two blocks over and take right, lands you on Main Dr. It's the safest way to go—I have a free pass on the subs. Saves gas money, too.
Anyway, he was keeping to himself. He looked like he fit in, like the rest of us. It would have worked too, if there weren't 'us' like him doing what he does—trying to fit in. But alas, I couldn't hold back. I had just spent money (always a good feeling on my behalf) and it was my wife and my anniversary (which always means good things). I was feeling plainly giddy. I had on my favorite winter coat and the shoes that she hated (but I LOVED). It was a good day, I had the day off, and we both woke up on the right side of the bed. And, lo and behold, my day seemed to think it wasn't good enough for me. That's right, it got better. There, coming directly down the stairs, was the famous Harry Potter.
I didn't know what to think. At first, I was extremely excited. He was six years younger than I was, so I remember the years of torture when I was only five years old. My Grandmum had died from the Dark Lord. I had never forgave him. But then Harry Potter came along. Every since that faithful night, when we all woke up to the WWN screaming that the Potter's died, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Not was gone, and a little boy had survived, I hadn't wanted to meet him. He was a hero to me. And here he was, fitting in with the hustle and bustle of the Tuesday morning commune. He had on a top had, flattening his hair and shadowing his blazing eyes. But that didn't him from me. From the moment I saw his look-alike Kashmir overcoat, dress shoes and Sunday-best pants, I was in ecstasy. Here was my chance to finally thank The One Who Lived!
But then I remember something that I wish I hadn't remembered. He hasn't been here at all. He's failing—that's what the WWN has been saying nonstop.
But I didn't have a chance to dwell on the second fact. Next thing I knew, Harry Potter was past me on the stairs. But I wasn't going to let that chance pass me by. By Jove, whether its for better or worse, I was going to meet Harry Potter.
I didn't dare shout out his name. He would surely curse me into oblivion and that would attract the people's attention. I caught up to him as quick as my legs—and the overbearing crowd—would allow. I reached him in five seconds flat, which was pretty good considering I had changed in the flow. I turned to him, not really expecting a greeting. So I put my foot in the bag.
"Harry Potter?" I asked casually, not too loud but loud enough for him to hear.
He had cocked his head to the side, registering my presence, probably shocked that someone would come up to him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said warmly. What did he think I was going to do? Curse him?
He nodded his gratitude. I continued, ignoring the looks of annoyance he was giving me.
"I-I'm sorry to be bother you," I began, "but I just want to thank you."
I smiled at him and he returned it. I was overjoyed. The flow stopped momentarily, ready to board the train. But I had to get one more word in before he left.
"You've done so much for us, Mr. Potter," I told him. He looked truly touched. He allowed the people to flow behind him, standing in the doorway.
"Thank you," he whispered back to me.
I could tell that he wanted to leave my prying eyes.
"I could never had done what you are doing. I was only seven when I heard the news and I'm sorry about you're parents. My parents had been friends with them. I think I met them once, but I don't remember. I was little," I told him.
He nodded his head, hopefully in gratitude.
"Thank you," he responded, louder this time. "Thank you for being on my side, friend."
I smiled warmly at him, greatly honored. I was shocked. Me? His friend? So then I asked him:
"I wasn't sure if you were going to make it. I shouldn't have doubted the power of an extremely potent wizard. You have such wonderful friends, also. I'm glad you're here for us."
He fully smiled this time. He probably has never received a statement like that. I'm glad to help him in any way I could.
Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world
He shook his head, most likely positively embarrassed.
I was proud of myself.
But what I hadn't realized was where he was going. It hadn't occurred to me, but, where was he going? And why was he here, in Surrey of all places? Sure, I knew that his aunt and uncle lived there, but he hated them. Even I knew that.
"Glad to help you, mate. Is there any thing I can do you for?" he returned politely.
"Ah, no, sir. Just meeting you is being pleasure. I just had to tell you how much I am grateful for you. You're taking away the thing that took away the only thing from me," I told him.
His face looked compassionate towards me. He had no right—after what he's done.
"What is it?" he asked, truly concerned.
"My Grandmum was taken away by the Dark Lord."
He placed his hand delicately on my shoulder. I could feel his body tense from here and felt the rough, already worn palm of his hand. He was too young, but he looked older than one would think.
"I'm sorry for that," he said.
I shook my head, disregarding it, telling him that I was too young to remember all too well anyway.
We made small talk for a few minutes—the train was on the verge of taking off without him. I didn't feel like stealing his train ride from him.
"But don't worry," he told me, looking into my eyes, "I have everything under control."
I smiled, glad that I had met him. But what I didn't realize was that I was face to face with the man who saved my life. The man who also sold the world.
HARRY'S POV
I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died along, a long long time ago
He told me how much he liked the new 'doo and that maybe the hat might help my daily life a little. I laughed something I found myself doing less and less.
I shook his hand, thanking him for stopping me on this cold Tuesday, and we parted ways.
I swiftly made the train, settling into the first seat on the left. I notice that a few of the passengers were giving me dirty looks, probably for holding up their lives, the stuffy, stuck-up people.
The man taught me something that I could never had learned from anyone at Hogwarts or the Ministry. Sure, hundreds of people came up to me and told me how great I was and how heroic I am today. However, someone had yet to tell me, sincerely, and not for namesake, that I was a hero to them. I thank the heavens that this man hadn't started kissing my feet and offering me to the gods, that would've been horrendous. But this man taught me that people couldn't live on his own. They need me.
The carriage jostled us a bit, bumping my shoulder up against the woman beside me, as we all were waiting to get back to our homes.
Since Sirius had passed, I decided that I was truly fed up with the Dursleys. I left them and decided to take up a flat in London, close to the Leaky Cauldron, which made my life easier. I had consulted Dumbledore about this issue (who was entirely against) and was pleased to make a bargain with him: I save his life, he lets me live mine. It wasn't exactly like that, but it meant the same.
So I finally 'moved out' and was free. The lady a door over was a pretty cute Muggle and we hung out on my free nights. It was nice to meet an unknown, someone who wasn't staring at me the whole time, but me doing that instead. Her name was Mary-Alice. Her friends called her Alize (or Aliza). And her last name was Smith. I was proud of this new girl in my life. Ron and Hermione had no idea and she already knew that I was leaving in September. I feel like a different person. I have a job, started taking care of myself, and even a girl for me! So pretty much, I was hitting it big time. She was only seventeen.
She was a very pretty girl. She had medium-length red hair, which reminded me of my mum's, and pretty blue eyes. She was shorter than I was, but I had grown a few inches, so I wasn't sure what height she was. She loved reading and worked in a bookstore only a few blocks from the flats and was near my work, an old record store.
I really liked her and things were heating up.
I was glad I found a place of my own, a place that truly felt like home. Sure, Hogwarts was up there, but with however many hundred students living with you, staring at you, homework to do, the only fun being Quidditch, and missing out on the discovery of making your own breakfast, lunch, and dinner, it wasn't as good as it was cooked up to be. I liked hanging out with my newfound girlfriend, who was a blast, and her two mates, Claire and Charlie. They were a couple, who used to be best friends. They fit together like a glove and had to agree in saying that Alize and I did too. I was glad that after all the years of being by myself and shuddered away in this world, I finally found my own place. I even think that I'm falling in love with her.
I shudder, not wanting to think of that, as the train is stopping at the first stop. Two more stops left and then I had planned to meet Alize at the Café Blanca across the street.
But as I got to thinking, I realized that my life wouldn't stay so happy any longer. I looked around at the nobody's sitting around me. We all had a place to go, people to see and things to do. Some of them had no one or nothing, but they were just wallflowers. But my life was turning a curve in its path. From good to bad, bad to worse, and worse to better, I thought that it was going to stay that way. But I was wrong. Everyone knows that it goes from better back to worse. Sooner or later, I'll be leaving Alize, Claire, and Charlie and going back to Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape, and the world of Hogwarts—the place I, for once, dreaded. I was at a loss to do. I almost wanted to stay here, in Muggle London, and just send a letter letting Dumbledore know that I've got it made. 'Course, I'd keep the spells raging, and I'd probably tell Ron and Hermione about where I am, but I wouldn't wan to go back. If Voldemort's that much of a threat right now, then maybe I won't need to be there now.
I thought, yeah, this year'll be different. I think I say that every year. Every year, something that happens come summertime, I go back to school, and the Voldemort goes on his yearly rampage and tries to kill me. And every year, it doesn't work. Why doesn't he just give up? Why does he love the feeling of just torturing us until we go crazy? I don't get it.
The train jerks to a stop. I stay put. I had one more stop left.
I stared at the people who were rushing (the ones who had glared at me earlier for holding the train up) and then I watched the people come rushing in who were expected a non-delayed train to arrive on time at the platform, which was chockfull of more people waiting to get on the train, which will lead them to the next destination after London, and on and on until the train has to turn around and come the other way, passing by London and Surrey again. All the millions of people relied on this one train to make it's daily circuit, taking them from place to place, all because they aren't taking their cars, or they couldn't afford one.
It looks like we sold ourselves to this fabric lifestyles thousands of years ago.
Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world
I wonder if I was one of those. I wonder if I will ever change my routine. Well, duh. I do every day. But for once, I actually want a routine. I want to come home, after waking that morning as I do every morning at 7 PM, going into work at 8, a lunch break at 12, sitting through the same boring meetings and papers, and I'll be home at the same time, 3.30, kissing my wife on the cheek and hugging our children. Dinner'll be ready, and if it isn't, I'll make it for her. She was probably busy that day, like she always is. And the children will do their homework by the fire…
I realized how much I want a civilized, orderly lifestyle. And how much I wanted a wife.
Mary-Alice.
THIRD PERSON POV
Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the man who sold the world
Two weeks later, Harry Potter found himself saying goodbye to his three-month old girlfriend and leaving for Hogwarts.
She still hasn't forgotten him.