Disclaimer: If for any reason you think I'm J.K. Rowling, that's just sad. I don't own Harry Potter, which sorta sucks...

Chapter 2

"All set?" My dad asked as I tied my sneaker. I nodded. He came yesterday and stayed all night by my side as the nurses treated my scrapes and cuts. When I saw him I couldn't have been happier, thinking that the house was attacked by Death Eaters. He brought me the first clothes he saw on top of my dresser, so needless to say- my outfit today would not have been my first choice.

Dad checked me out of St. Mungo's and we started walking in silence. He was my best friend and I was his pal, but today his presence was awkward. Maybe, it was because Alex wasn't with us.

"You know, Lori. I've always wanted you to learn Apparition from me and not some nineteen-year-old who calls himself an Auror." Dad smiled.

How could he smile at a time like this? It's almost as if I would lose control of myself and scream: You just lost your son!

"Don't worry, daddy. I don't think I'll be Apparating any time soon. It's not like I learned anything from Chester…except that it gives you massive headaches."

"So, his name is Chester, huh?" I swear he was still a teenager on the inside, despite his graying black hair and crow's feet. I rolled my eyes and gently punched him in the arm. "Hey! Oh, look! Let's go get some ice-cream."

Dad pointed ahead at a little shop, Jack and Arnold.

"Umm…no…I'm good." I said, wrapping my hoodie around me tighter. My dad shrugged, wide-eyed, and hugged my shoulders as we walked to the bus stop, once again in silence.

Our little yellow house with white shingles was a lonely building, isolated by the woods serving as the backyard. The woods were how Alex and I used to spend summers when we were both at Hogwarts. The inside walls were all the same color of beige, so that they didn't take the attention away from Dad's many paintings. The furniture was plain, but always covered with a colorful throw or a creamy lace tablecloth. A house is a representation of the soul. My artistic dad would always buy some fancy bobs, like metal signs and cuckoo-clocks and I loved coming home and seeing his new prized possessions.

I went upstairs. The door to Alex's room was slightly ajar. I wanted to walk in there so badly and see him lying on his bed throwing and catching the Golden Snitch. My hand reached for the doorknob and without thinking, I opened the door completely.

"Where were you guys?" Alex was sitting on the floor with notebooks spread out in front of him.

"Uhhh…" I began. This was impossible. "Dad and I just got back from St. Mungo's."

He raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do to yourself now?" I knew he was trying hard not to laugh. It was so like him to make fun of my problems.

"The Death Eater attack. You don't remember?"

"Nooo…this is a Muggle town, Lori. Death Eaters don't come here."

This was ridiculous. How could he not believe me?

"Alex, you saved me! I had to run through the Tulashire Forest- look at my arms."

My brother shook his head and we just sat there looking at each other- he at me as if I was crazy, and I at him as in he was getting on my nerves.

"Lori! Who are you talking to?" My dad walked into Alex's room.

I turned around. "Alex." But when I moved back to face him, he wasn't there. "He was right here! I swear!"

"Lori, this isn't funny." My dad's voice was strict and disappointed.

"Do you see me laughing, Dad?" I yelled. I felt dirty and awful for blowing up on my dad. It was not his fault I was completely mental. My mind knew that I didn't see Alex for real, but my eyes were trying to convince me otherwise. "I'm sorry, daddy." I started tearing up. I had never acted like a child, especially not with him. I wanted people to think of me as grown-up and mature, but I couldn't stop wallowing.

My dad sat down next to me. "It's not your fault."

"Partially…Alex saved me! He told me to run."

Dad shrugged.

"Why are you so emotion-less, dad? It's like you don't care that your son is missing."

"I care," he stated, gazing off into the window and the woodland scenery. The scenery that changed so much in so little time. "I just knew this would happen. Everybody seems to leave me anyway."

I put my head on his shoulder. "I'll never leave you, dad."

He looked down at me. "I will never leave you, pal."

Everyone left us.

I knew why, but it pained too much to admit it out loud.

I rummaged through my closet to find a box, hidden in the back behind my winter robes. It was very heavy, so I dragged it out and crossed my legs as I sat by it. Blowing off some of the dust, I opened the box.

Thousands of wrinkled photos were piled up to the top. On every one a little memory- a little piece of my life that I had never experienced. I played with the frayed yellowing corner of the first Muggle photograph.

Clara and Gregg, June 1955

A barely-eighteen year-old girl was hugging the neck of a young man as he gave her a piggy-back ride. Her hair was long, blonde, and very curly- as if it was a cloud of white fluff. His was wavy and black. Their faces were smiling and their eyes were ignited with happiness- as in love as two soul mates could be. I looked at the picture for a while longer and then set it aside.

What would she be like if we got to know each other?

Since I was eight years old, I never got tired of looking at these photos. It was soothing- like an ancient and sacred remedy passed on for many years. But every single scene and every single face tore me down as if saying that I do not have the right to even glance at them.

After many pictures of the Clara and Gregg, came ultrasounds of a little baby.

Alex.

I smiled as I traced his tiny feet, curled up and tucked into the chest. Then, that little worm turned into a dark haired boy with long eyelashes as he rested in his mother's arms. He was the perfect love child- the kind any two nineteen year-olds would want. Alex was their dream. So far, the only dream that came true for them.

I dug out all the pictures until I reached the middle, examining every one carefully. They were blurry wizard photographs taken from far away. The young woman was singing on stage surrounded by an excited band arousing the pleased crowd. Clara was happy. There was no ring on her finger- just a man and their son who loved her. The same as five years ago, her eyes were a light brown, like melted chocolate.

In the same year that all of Clara's dreams were coming true, a mistake happened.

Me.

I was not supposed to be born. I was unwanted. She did not want more than one child, thinking that being a mother of two would get in the way of her singing career. She was already losing her voice after she had Alex. She was young and wanted to be free. Gregg asked Clara to marry him after I was born to make a stable family. He told her about his gift of magic, her being a cynical Muggle. She was afraid- freaked out- so Clara packed all of her bags and left, leaving a young twenty-five year-old Gregg alone, heartbroken, and with two kids to raise.

And so from that point until the very bottom of the box, every photograph was magical.

Alex riding his first broomstick.

His very first wand.

The first time he was on Platform 9 ¾.

My older brother was such a peculiar boy. He didn't bother brushing his hair and would lose anything and everything. Last week, he was still the same little boy- smiling and having fun in the woods. Of course, now he had power…was it enough power to survive, though?

I stared at the last picture on the bottom.

Gregg was tossing me up in the air as I pretended to fly.

Daddy…

Why does everything have to be my fault?

For once in my life, I wish someone else was blamed. I was constantly suffering inside from all the pain I had caused without my knowledge. Everything was an accident. According to Clara, I was an accident.

Dad is the only one who loves me.

I was tearing up and panting slightly, slowly turning to hysterics. I picked up the very first picture of the two eighteen year-olds, and ripped it in half, dividing Clara from Gregg. Pure bitterness was on my tongue. I hated her. She left me. She held a grudge against a baby. She was a useless Muggle and I was revolted with her. Every time I looked in the mirror, I would see her. Some part of me or another was always her…my nose…my lips…

I would never leave the ones I love.

You don't even deserve him.

I stuffed Clara back into the box and placed my dad's youth on my desk.

He stood by me and you were never there…

Thanks a lot…mom.