I was seven when I met him. Seven – too young to know what the consequences of it would be, but old enough to know there were some. He was the Potter boy from the next estate. Dad said that it was the worst thing that ever happened to us. The Potter's moving in I mean. I didn't understand but I agreed anyway, just nodded my head and said 'I know – I hate them.' I didn't know what that meant either – not really.
Well, I met him and I knew he was one of those… 'mudblood - loving bastards' from the next estate but I still spoke to him, 'cus I didn't know what a mudblood-loving bastard was anyway. He didn't shake my hand though; he just looked at me funny and told me to get lost. I said I couldn't because I'd lived here all my life so even if I tried to get lost I'd still know where I was. He told me not to be smart with him and I told him it was natural and there nothing I could do but be brilliant.
Dad always said I was smart – when I was seven that is. He said it because I knew how to cast spells and stuff - even though I didn't really know what I was doing. I just did what he told me to because he would call me smart if I did and say I was a good son. Mother never did though. Mother liked Reggie best, but I always said he was a snot-nosed, stuck-up twat of a brother 'cus he was five and I was seven and that's what you think about little brothers – even if you don't really mean it.
We ended up having a competition – me and Potter-boy. He said he could hold his breath for forty seconds so I bet him a whole knut he couldn't. So he tried to prove it – but I knew he was bluffing see 'cus I'm smart. He pretended he was holding his breath but really he was breathing through his nose. I told him to do it again with me pinching his nose shut but he couldn't. He didn't have a knut though he said. I told him he could give it to me next time I saw him but I never did. See him again that is.
I told Reggie about Potter-boy and Reggie told mother about me. She slapped me and told me if I ever did it again she'd do it again. Harder. I didn't cry though, 'cus I was seven and a boy and seven year old boys don't cry unless they're soft. I got him back for it though. Reggie I mean. I slapped the back of his legs and told him never to do it again or I'd do it again. Harder. He cried though, 'cus he was five and I was seven and that's what little brothers do when their big brothers turn on them.
Next time I saw him I was eleven. Too young to care about the consequences but old enough to know what they'd be. I didn't recognise him at first though because was shorter than me last time and now he was taller with glasses. I remembered him when he didn't shake my hand and looked at me funny. He told me to get lost and I asked for my knut. He tried not to laugh but he couldn't hold it in. Turns out he remembered me as well. He didn't have a knut though he said. He bought me some bubble gum instead and I said we were even 'cus I loved bubble gum and he'd bought my favourite flavour.
Dad killed me when he found out I was in Gryffindor. He didn't ever call me smart again. He called me stupid and dumb instead even though I got good marks in everything. Mother wouldn't speak to me. She just glared and told Reggie nasty things about me as if I wasn't there. Reggie would agree but I didn't care 'cus I was eleven and he was nine and big brothers don't give a damn about what their little brother's think. Even if they do.
I was fifteen when I ran away. Too young to think about the consequences but old enough to know that it wouldn't be as bad as staying. He brushed me off when I thanked him and said that's what brother's do as he hugged me. But that confused me 'cus brothers never actually show affection for each other – I should know because I have one and he never ever showed me affection because he was thirteen and I was fifteen and teenage brothers don't do that. Even if all they want is to hug each other and comfort. They don't.
I was twenty-five when Reggie died. Too young to have really experienced loss but old enough to know what it meant. I cried then, because I was twenty-five and he was my brother and it's okay to cry when you're twenty-five. I didn't let him know I was hurting though, because he thought I'd forgotten my real brother ten years ago when I ran away. I hadn't though 'cus I was twenty-five and he was twenty-three and big brothers never forget their little brothers. Even if they want to. Just as little brothers never stop looking up to their big brothers. Even if they never admit it, and most of all never act on it.
I knew this because Reggie was a death eater when he died and Reggie knew I would never have done it. Reggie was soft though and didn't act on it. Reggie never knew I cared. Reggie never knew I would have helped. Because he was five and I was seven and big brothers never let on they care. Even if they do.