A savior got the savior
And Maybe he was.
Inside, he lost his soul. He is just a walking corpse, in a way.
And in his moment of need, something snapped Harry out of his daze.
Two girls, a round seven years of age, skip past his front window. But it wasn’t them themselves that saved him from drowning in his bad thoughts. It was what they were doing.
The two girls were singing a song, a song that all muggles usually know. It was London bridges.
But the way they had sang it started a fire in Harry.
It wasn’t the normal lines, it was their own song. Same tune as London bridges, but they were singing it, as if their song told everyone their life story. And that was the beginning for Harry. The beginning for a passion. The boy hasn’t had a passion since the beginning year of Hogwarts. When did this child of Harry die? When did this version of Harry disaster and forgotten? Didn’t anyone remember how Harry was before the worlds life was depending on his shoulders?
Why did this child stop existing, and where did they go?
Harry runs up to where his room was. A burning sensation pushing him forward. He wanted a journal and pen. No, he needed a journal and pen.
Harry searched everywhere. Still he found nothing. The sensation felt like it was burning his skin. It hurts as Harry continues his search. He folded himself in half as the pain was too much for him, and he accidentally had hit his head on a shelf.
Something fell onto the boy, and Harry opens his eyes. His vision bleary from unshed tears, try to see what had fallen onto him.
A red notebook.
His eyes widen, and he picked up the notebook. Flipping through it, Harry tries to find any used pages. Fortunately for him, it was brand new.
So he flipped to the first page, and grabbed a pen off of his desk, and sat on his bed.
A memory flashes in his mind.
It was when Harry was younger, before he had ever received a letter by an owl. Before the day they went to the zoo and the glass disappeared from his courses weight, and the snake slithering away. Before that day, he lived under the stairs.
Verse 1:
Underneath the stairs, a little boy resides,
Hiding from the world and all its harsh tides.
His aunts, uncles, and cousins live upstairs,
But he's alone down here with his thoughts and his cares.
Chorus:
Living under the staircase, a secret he must keep,
But in his heart, he knows he's meant for something deep.
One day he'll break free and spread his wings to fly,
Until then, he'll hold on and never say die.
Harry looks down at the page, not realizing he had wrote anything. He was too caught up in his song to even notice.
Since when did he find something so simple to fun? Why did this make him feels so accomplished, when defeating Voldemort had not?
And why does he want to write more?