Disclaimer: As much as I wish I owned something, I don't, which includes Harry Potter and anything to do with it.
I hadn't slept well last night. I had stayed up most of the night thinking about my father. He had left so much behind and I didn't know if when he came back, he'd be able to recover any of it. Before he left, during the summer was his and mines time together. We had had a real relationship. Even with his other demanding needs he was always there for me when I needed him and he was always there when I wouldn't have needed him. I guess the reason he was like that is because he of course never had a REAL relationship with his own father. He knew that everyday spent with me could very well be his last. When the minister of magic called on him to travel to many places and destroy the evil being in our world, it was an offer he couldn't resist. The world needed their hero again. And he needed the world. The magic my father possessed was absolutely incredible and there wasn't a wizard in our world that would even try to defeat him. When he left it was during the summer that I was to enter my 4th year at Hogwarts and at the time I didn't realize how much I was going to miss him, I had gone many of my school years without seeing my parents once. It wasn't until I returned home from my 4th year that I truly did miss him. When I hopped off the Hogwarts express I saw my mother there, alone, and it hit me that my father had been gone for almost exactly a year. I thought of how lonely my mother must have been, yet the sparkle was still in her deep brown eyes. I know he would look much different, but did I look different? I hadn't thought so, but as I was looking at my old photo albums of my family and friends I noticed the small things. I dark brown hair was at least three inches longer and I had had a growth spurt. I had also grown into my large front teeth (father always said they reminded him of an old friend) which was to my great pleasure.
I walked downstairs to find my mother already cleaning and scrubbing in the kitchen. It was about six o'clock in the morning and the sun had begun to inch itself through the kitchen windows. I don't know what it was, but I can not sleep in, ever. Sleep did not come easy to me, I would much rather be awake so I could see the world around me. I couldn't tell if my mum was more worried, scared, or nervous. I was leaning towards more nervous, she had always been one to clean vigorously when something important was happening. I knew she had nothing to worry about; father never noticed things like how there isn't a dust particle to be seen flying or resting astray anywhere. Mum had the pans cleaning themselves and I saw outside through the window a rag and squirt bottle cleaning the windows.
By the time we finished cleaning the entire house (including the cage of my owl, Ollie) it was 11:45 and I was quite exhausted, yet thoroughly excited. "Abby, honey, could you please go clean yourself up?" my mother told me. I wanted to disagree with her, I had taken a shower before I had walked downstairs that morning, but I knew that I must look like a wreck. So I ventured upstairs and washed up.
By 12:45, Mum became worried. There was a crease in the white carpet where she paced incessantly. I sat on the couch chewing on my fingernails. "Abigail, you know how horrible that is for your fingers," Mum said in a nervous tone. I rolled my eyes and then continued to crack my muckles which resulted in another comment by my Mum. So I sat there and looked at a family portrait taken three weeks before my father left. I know he would look much different, but did I look different? I hadn't thought so, but as I looked at the picture I noticed the small things. My dark brown hair was at least three inches longer and I had had a growth spurt. I had also grown into my large front teeth (father always said they reminded him of an old friend) which was to my great pleasure.
I heard a quick pop and there was my father. His vibrant green eyes (which I also got from him), messy black hair, and scar till showing. His appearance hadn't changed one bit.
"Hello Family"
"Harry!" my mum practically screamed as she threw her arms around my father. I just stood there, almost as I if I were in a trance. They embraced for what seemed like five minutes, unaware that I was still standing there.
"Hu-llo fa-ther" I said breaking up the words into their syllables. I walked up to my father and gave him a light hug. It was taking all my control to stand there looking at him. He hadn't sent a letter to us in over 3 months until yesterday. I had known, however, what he was doing. The Daily Prophet practically followed his every move and I was following the Daily Prophets every move. I read about all the people he found practicing the dark arts and how he saved half the population of Guinea from a massive band of crazed lunatic wizards. They always finished the articles about where Harry was to venture off next and I awaited the day of them writing "home".
My father began talking to my mum quietly and I started to edge my was up the stairs.
"Abby, dinner is almost ready, why don't you stay down here and talk with us?" my mum asked in her most motherly voice possible.
"I'm fine mum, I'm not hungry. You won't miss me, or at least I know he won't" I answered motioning my head towards my father. I hated being this unkind, but I couldn't just totally act as if nothing had happened to me over the past year. It was if being on a winning quidditch team, then not practicing for a year, and then expecting you can come back right to where you left off. It wouldn't happen. If you practiced hard enough and long enough eventually you would come back to speed. Until then, your playing couldn't be normal.
I started up the stairs and heard my parents go into the kitchen. I stopped in mid-step and listened to see if I could hear the conversation. It was no good, so I quietly stepped down the marble stairs and pressed my ear against the closed wooden door. I could faintly hear their voices, but good enough. It was my mother's voice I heard first, "I'm just disgusted with Abby's behavior. You've been gone for so long and I know she's missed you. She's just so stubborn."
"I don't blame her, Parvati," did my father actually understand? "I had been around her so much and then all of the sudden I was gone in a far off land, nowhere near her," I could tell my mother just gave a father a look of disgust, "However I'm not saying her behavior is good!"
No, he had missed too much, he would never understand. I couldn't bare standing there anymore, I ran quietly up my stairs and into my room. Once there, I simply climbed into bed, and fell asleep.
