Name: Phillip Arthur Iglese. Only since this morning.
Sex: Male. Last time I checked anyway.
Age: 19. Oh, hey, they added a few years.
Nationality: Ireland. Nice, but really it's England. Or Great Britain, or whatever.
Eye color: Brown. Dang, I hated that about myself. Dirt would have been a better word.
Hair color: Brown. Yep, I look like crap.
I was scanning my fake I.D. and passport, wondering what they had made me this time. So far, pretty normal. I sighed.
I was never popular back home, with my friends or family. I just sort of existed, and was there to bounce ideas off of.
But now, I was following in my father's and mother's footsteps. Helping people, fighting evil, and staying in Tahiti.
Ok, not exact footsteps. That is what Gran always wanted. Too bad I was now an escaping criminal, and ruining her little scheme.
Not like I killed anyone, I just used magic in front of some Muggles.
To save some good friends of mine lives.
ok, and accidentally blowing up a Muggle mailbox. I grinned to myself. That was funny, despite that it came from years of clumsiness.
Since then, I was interviewed on the disappearances of the Great Trio, as the Daily Prophet now calls them.
But I didn't answer a single question.
I ran away instead.
With style, I must add, for I blew up Severus Snape's old classroom on the way out.
And now I sit here, wondering if I should order room-service or not, and waiting.
Waiting for instructions, like some little kid.
But it was worth it.
Everything was worth it for my friends.
I looked at my photo. They were all I had now.
Meatloaf sounds good tonight, I thought as I picked up the phone...