12 Grimmauld Place
Harry
Fire. I see the burning, raging fire. They try to trap me in it but I run.
run
run
run
run
run
But it isn't enough, it never is.
Shouts, screams, crying, dying. Strangers, friends they all burn and twist in agony. Their flesh burns off their limbs. I see Lupin and Tonks, they look to me with crazy eyes, they screech in raspy voices,
"It was you, you killed us," Lupin howls at me, he's right. I couldn't save them.
"I hate you!" Tonks continues, "My son will never know me, I won't get to love him!" Her tears stain her cheeks and drop to the floor, her hair changes colour with every word, from a flaming red to a darkened blue to a void black, in a cycle.
"You're wrong, he has Andromeda," I try to tell them, "He has me!" But I know what it's like to lose out on what everyone else has. I know what it's like to cry and beg for someone to truly love me, like I was important to them, I still want it. I want the bedtime stories, the hugs, the family dinners, family gatherings. I want to be loved as if I were the muse to their art, for them to think of me when they see something. I don't just want it. I crave it.
I turn and bolt from my shame, to the other side of the flames, to the crowd of strangers. They point at me in disgust dragging their ashen bodies, some look like the undead, they look just as I made them. It's my fault. My heart is practically leaping in my chest. I see them encircle me they grunt, howl, and grab for me, for their revenge. I let them. A young woman with pale brown hair reaches me first, her face looks up to me in victory, then in terror, I look at the hands of him.
She pushes her scorched palms into the rubble on the ground backing away from me. I look to my right. I see a shattered window, I hold my breathe looking into it. My reflection shows him, not me, or is it me? Am I him? They all stare like I am then the blood drips
drip
drip
drip
From my hands, I did it. No, I saved them it was my only purpose to. Why can't I do anything right?
I try tell them but it's not my voice, it's the one that follows me like the linger of an old friend. I'm screaming.
That's when I wake up drenched in sweat and apparently tears as I wipe my face. My throat is hoarse so I might have been screaming again, I grab my glasses and the couple of days old water from my nightstand and drink it. I sit up straight in my bed, I hate this. I've tried to get better, but there's not more my muggle therapist can do for me. I can't just tell her something like,
'Oh yeah, the reason I have these nightmares is because I've nearly got murdered a few times since I was a baby, talked to the dead about being killed, then died and came back.'
I would either be treated like the Messiah or be sent to a mental hospital, as well as that's just a summary.
I check the time on the old alarm clock, that may or may not be broken, 5:38 AM. I groan, bloody nightmares, and for what? Can't even get some sleep, I glance to the clock. At least on the bright side I don't have to up for another couple of hours, that means more shut eye for me. I take off my glasses, shove them onto my nightstand and go to lay down but I feel something move, I freeze. It moves up from my legs to my torso and paws at the duvet covering it, I sit up, again, before feeling around for wherever I dumped my glasses and press them to my face. Then she lunges at me, clawing at my face until I remove the black fur ball and set her down in my lap.
"Pearl, give me a minute to get up and stop scraping me," I tell her, "I've already got one scar I don't need another," Though I don't think she knows what I'm saying,
Obviously. She's a cat.
"Let me get up, then we'll get a treat," I yawn and Pearl pounces to the creaky floor of my room. So she does understand me, sly cat. I go down to the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, where Kreacher is sleeping in his cupboard, I've tried so many times to let him free but all he says is,
'Kreacher, will serve Master Harry since he has shown Kreacher great gratitude,' or 'Master Harry is next in the line of Black, and it's Kreacher's duty to serve the Black's,'
Anyways, I look in the top cabinet for the cat food, the vet says she'll get too big if I keep feeding her like this but a fed cat is a happy cat, at least that's the case with Pearl. I grab the cat bites from the cabinet and set it down on the counter where Pearl is meowing expectantly
”Greedy cat,” I mumble, which earned me a hiss from the grouchy fur ball,”Y’know you’re very grumpy for such a cute cat,” I tell her, giving her a treat and petting her. She quickly takes the treat and accepts my pets. I got Pearl from Hermione and Ron for my birthday this year, she’s an older cat that nobody at the shelter wanted. Though she’s got quite the attitude, I smile and scoop her up in my arms into the living room.
”Well Pearl we’ve got roughly 3 hours before we leave the house,” I yawn, sitting down on my brown, leather sofa and turn on the tv I had installed whenever I moved in after the war. Is it weird for a wizard to have a muggle tv in his living room? Maybe, but me and Arthur had fun installing it. Well, he had fun looking at the instruction manual while I tried to lift up the tv, it was heavy for one guy what can I say, then I like the idiot I am, I remembered I can use magic outside of Hogwarts now. I flick onto the BBC one channel where some random knight show is playing. The figures fight about the screen but I'm not really paying attention. I look to the picture of my parents I have framed on the fireplace. What would my life look like if that prophecy wasn't made? Would I just be normal like everyone else? Would Voldemort still be in power? I try not to think on it much, but it's not easy to ignore the what ifs and what could be. I shake my head, realising I've been looking at it for so long that even Pearl seems a bit concerned. I grab the tv remote and change to the news channel, a bit late for the 6am news. Muggle news isn't very interesting especially here, all you get is politics and random updates on schools, NHS, and sports teams. To be honest they drawl on a lot of it, but the odd time you get something good or interesting going on in the world. I turn up the volume on the tv and go into the kitchen where Kreacher is now roaming. Kreacher has his back to me as he rummages through the cabinets,
"Master Potter, what would you like for breakfast?" I jump, "Just the usual I suppose?" He asks, I usually just have a porridge or Weetabix, and on a Sunday I ask Kreacher to make me a fry.
"Yeah, can you put some honey on the Weetabix please," He nods and sets to his task, though I've told him I can do it myself even after I told him I do it on my own, he still refuses. Though Hermione would be proud of me for my work on trying to let him relax a bit. I sit at the head of the dining table in the next room, the room is very empty, and cold, very cold. Note to self, get Hermione to show me the heating spell again. When Kreacher brings my cereal in he sets onto the table and summons a spoon to put beside it.
"Thanks," I usually tell him please and thank you but I doubt he hears it, he's always halfway back into the kitchen. I eye the grandfather clock, if I stuff my food in my mouth, I can go to the muggle gym and still have time to pack the rest of my stuff. So, in the hole the food goes, I taste the sweetness of the honey for the most part since Kreacher knows I like to plaster it on there. As quick as I came into the dining room I'm already out of it, past the living room. Actually I go into the living room to turn off the tv that still has the news hosts talking, then I leave the old fashioned room and bolt upstirs to my bedroom. My gym stuff is sitting in a bag since I didn't know whether I'd be up on time for it. I grab the bag and nearly tumble down the stairs, I turn at the front door,
"Be back soon!" I shout, hoping Pearl or if I'm lucky, Kreacher, can hear me. I go out the door and down the front steps before walking to my local bus stop.