Chapter Text
It’s hard for me to talk about this. My time at Hogwarts is something I can’t help but cherish, but those last two years were really rough for me. For all of us. Your mother doesn’t want me to write this. For your sake, and, maybe, for mine as well. She thinks it might make things worse, more complicated. I hope you understand her, she has her reasons. The war took a lot from her, and she just wants you to remain untouched by it. A part of her is still terrified by it, as if the past could suddenly reach out and pull her back. She begged me, screamed at me, even tried to forbid me from seeing you when I finally told her I bought this journal. But, the truth is, I couldn’t really live with myself if I didn’t do this. It’s important you understand. I need you to understand. I rarely dare to think of those years, but there’s no doubt that I owe them everything I have.
I don’t know when I’ll finally get the courage to give this to you. Eleven feels too young. Merlin, I used to be such a pampered ponce at that age, unable to think of anything but Quidditch and Chocolate Frogs and whatever new invention Zonko’s had come up with. I know you’re very different from who I used to be, but I still can’t help but think it would be too early. Seventeen, though, is too old. You’re barely six and already asking too much. And, knowing your mother, if I wait until then you’ll probably have figured everything out already.
I don’t know. Maybe, in the end, you’ll never see this. Maybe, your mother will convince me and I’ll just keep this to myself. I admit, I’m not entirely selfless with my reasons for writing this. I rarely am. In a way, this helps me, too. I can say everything I’ve ever wanted to say, free my burdened heart. I get to relive everything once again before I finally close that book for good. And despite how glum and miserable I have made things seem, there are a few things I do want to remember. I’ll try not to reminisce much, but I know myself too well to know this is going to be a hard promise to keep. But, knowing you, seeing how you’re already carrying books half your size, I know- well, I hope you won’t mind.
It’s important you know: no one will be able to read this. By the time this book reaches your hands, I’ll have charmed it a hundred times over so that no one else can even glimpse a single word. And even if they could, it wouldn’t matter. No one person could read this and understand it in the way that you will. This is for you, and I hope that, by the end, you won’t think less of me.
I guess some context is in order. I’ll start with my early Hogwarts years. I still can’t recognise myself when I think back to those times. Merlin. I hope that if I ever have a son, he won’t turn out to be like me. I was a little devil, too smart for my own good, constantly bored and willing to do anything just to amuse myself. I guess that’s why, in a way, I never really had any close friends until I was older. People liked me well enough. I was good for a laugh, a few drinks, my classmates would hang out with me once or twice a week until I became too unbearable for them. But never unbearable enough that they didn’t come back. Huh, I guess I’m still a smug prick, even now. And yes, I can say prick because you won’t be a tiny little girl when you read this. Just don’t tell your mother, alright?
Hogwarts was the best thing that could have happened to eleven-year-old me. I was given a wand and an entire castle to use it on however I wanted, so long as Filch didn’t catch me. I played too many pranks, made my father proud, my uncles laugh, and gave my mother a bit too many white hairs for her vanity. The worst thing about me was that I was - and still am - a prodigy. I’m not being biased, well, maybe I am, but I was insanely smart. While the other kids had to spend hours studying, magic came easy to me. I was just too good, and even though I often “forgot” my homework and rarely paid attention during classes, the teachers knew well enough that calling me out on it was fruitless. When the chips were down, I delivered, and there was rarely a time I wasn’t in the top three students of my year.
My brother, Ashford - or Ash, whenever I decided not to be an arse - was the complete opposite of me; quiet, studious, respectful, humble, all that noble stuff. And so, naturally, he couldn’t tolerate me. He ignored me whenever we were at Hogwarts, instead choosing to hang around his only two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Yes, that Hermione Granger. You have no idea how hard I’m laughing right now. I’ll give you a moment to pick up your jaw, but, yes, before Hermione became my darling wife, the light of my life, the only woman who loved me enough to truly stand me, she was my brother’s best friend. And she HATED me. But we’ll get to that later.
I don’t think I need to really go in-depth about my brother. Everyone already knows all his adventures. He is the Boy Who Lived, after all. Our little Saviour, my baby brother, I couldn’t be prouder. Gah! I’m an adult now, and I still can’t get over how everyone fawned over him. They threw themselves on the ground just to lick the dirt that trailed off his boots. But, at the same time, I can’t help but admit he deserved every bit of admiration. And, despite my brief moments of jealousy, I know too well his life wasn’t as glamorous as the Skeeter bint made it out to be. I used to wish things had been different, wished it had been me that Voldemort marked. That stopped after my fourth year, the night that Cedric Diggory was killed, and I saw my brother trembling, holding onto his corpse, barely clinging to life himself.
I wish I could say that was the moment I instantly grew up. That I became a new man, joining my brother and dedicating my life to making sure he was safe and that Voldemort was dead. Unfortunately, that’s not my story. It’s not that I didn’t love my brother. I did, with all my heart, but I was fifteen and a moron and way too scared to admit that things were as bad as they really were. No, unfortunately, it wasn’t until my sixth year when I started to come into my own. Well into my sixth year, unfortunately. A little too late, in my opinion, though Hermione often tells me I’m too hard on myself.
The day term began, that September first, I woke up just an hour before the train was about to leave. My trunk was already packed, and though I was hungry, I appreciated my sleep enough to starve myself until the Trolley Witch caught up with me at the Express. By that point, I had probably single-handedly funded the entire Hogwarts tuition of whatever great-great-grandchild was her favourite. So, I just went to my bathroom, scrubbed the sleepiness off my face, got into my Hogwarts uniform, and applied just a tiny hint of Sleakeazy’s into my hair to keep it wild and standing at all sides. It’s a secret you’ll take to your grave, but, unfortunately, my good looks aren’t as natural as they seem. It’s the reason why my hair stood at all angles while my brother’s just sort of flopped down against his forehead, covering that lightning scar he so hated.
And just like that, I was ready to go. Only, Ashford wasn’t. See, since he was very young, years before he even started Hogwarts, my brother was put into a bit of a nerd regimen. He had nearly a dozen tutors come by every day, and they kept visiting him during the summers in between school terms. I used to study with them too, but I always hated it and never really paid attention, so after a year of trying, my mother finally gave up. Ruby, on the other hand, was a good daughter and did her best in every lesson. At least until she came back from her first year of Hogwarts and proclaimed that she had “slaved enough for ten months,” and had “earned a rightful break.” So, in the end, it was just my brother studying during the summers while the two of us enjoyed the little things in life, such as watching TV, spending time with our friends, and not having to wake up at four-thirty in the morning from the shouts of a deranged gym teacher hell-bent on making you crumble from exhaustion before everyone else woke up.
Looking back, I don’t know why I ever wanted my brother’s life.
So, when I arrived at the entrance hall and only saw my sister standing there, I knew enough not to question it. Back then, the only thing that crossed my mind was: Why didn’t I wake up a bit later?
Ruby Potter was nearly two years younger than me, and, to my mother’s utter disappointment, still looked nothing like her. Black silky hair, short and slim, and with the exact same face I share with Ash and my dad. Like, actually identical. On my first summer back from Hogwarts, I sneaked into her room while she was sleeping and cut her hair off just to prove she could be some sort of lost third twin. I even charmed a set of glasses to stick to the bridge of her nose so that the resemblance was stronger. Unfortunately for me, she was not amused, and that was the moment when I learned you can still have bouts of accidental magic at ten years old. Like, a lot of them. And very focused, too. They didn’t seem too accidental, if I’m being honest, but I could never prove it to a jury. It was also that incident that earned me my first and only warning for underage magic, so, overall, it was a stupid thing to do.
But I was right. She looked just like a carbon copy of me and Ash. Ever since then, she started calling us the Potter Trio, though I feel that she was just jealous about Ash’s friendship with Ron and Hermione and wanted to reclaim the spot of the most important girl in my brother’s life. It’s funny how some things never change.
“Ready to go back to Hogwarts, little sister?” I asked her. “Fourth year. It’s an important year, you know?”
“Is that so?” By that point, Ruby was already used to all my pranks and ploys. After the whole hair debacle thing, I could never get under her skin anymore.
“Of course. Classes stop being so dull. The threat of the OWLs starts to loom. You’ll start noticing boys more. Won’t that be a treat? But don’t worry, I’ll be there to help you when you make a fool of yourself.”
She scoffed, it’s only now that I look back at it, that I realise she was more amused than affronted. “It’s going to be hard, making myself more of an idiot than you already do.”
“I’m sorry to say, Rubes, but I’m not in search of a boyfriend.”
She rolled her eyes at me but didn’t push any further.
It took my brother another twenty minutes to finish up his lesson and grab his trunk, so, by the time we made it to the platform, everyone was rushing into the train, hauling their trunks, yelling out goodbyes and last requests. My brother’s arrival was immediately noticed, and he shrunk into himself, saying a quick goodbye to Mum and Dad before scurrying off to find Ron and Hermione. And with him gone, the attention was off of us. Ruby hugged Mum tightly and though she was trying not to, she was crying a little as she said goodbye. But before I could even think of taking the piss out of her, my dad grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from my mother and sister.
His eyes trailed up and down. I will never forget the way he looked at me that day. It was… weird. At the time, I didn’t really understand what it meant, and even now, thinking back on it, I don’t think I can quite place what he was feeling. I hope he wasn’t disappointed. It’s the type of memory that I know will keep me up at night. The way it happens when you’re trying to fall asleep, way after midnight, and then you start reliving your life again, remembering things you had promised to forget, noticing things you had never realised were there.
“Yes, Dad?” I said. I was annoyed, though I don’t know why. It’s something you’ll understand when you’re older. It’s almost as if when you reach fourteen, a dragon grows in your chest and roars whenever your parents stand just a little too close to you.
“You take care of your brother. Take care of yourself.” He sighed, finally looking me in the eye. “I’ve been rather… relaxed as a parent. Things are changing, the world isn’t how it was when you were a little boy. I’m not trying to worry you, but things are… bad.”
“Come on, Dad. Things aren’t that bad.”
“Harry-“
“No, I know Ash has his… thing, and I, well, I understand. It’s been scary lately, but he can handle it. He always handles it. We’ll be fine, Dad. We don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”
“This is different,” he told me. “This… Harry, you’re not a kid anymore. We tried, for your sake, to keep you out of it, but I’m starting to worry that was a mistake.” I scoffed, I’ll admit it, and that didn’t help things with my Dad. “No, listen to me. War is coming,” he continued. “I don’t want any pranks, no fights with your brother. You’re a sixth-year now, it’s time you acted like it. Focus on your school, think about the future, take things seriously, for once. Life won’t always be as kind as it has been to you.”
“You were just like me, and you came out alright,” I grumbled.
“Yes, because I chose to grow up. I changed, Harry, and now it’s your turn.”
I wish I could go back to that day. Hug my father, tell him I love him. I wish I could stay there and hold on tight. I didn’t know it then, but that was the end of my childhood. And despite knowing that my dad only wanted what was best for me, I resented him a lot for that. I was your typical bright teen: an idiot who felt wise because he was smart. I didn’t thank him for caring about me, I didn’t hug him or even say goodbye properly. Instead, I just gave him a stiff nod. “Alright.” And then I left. And because I knew that my mum was also involved in that little speech, I didn’t even throw her a smile.
After helping a few of the leftover firsties pull their overly large trunks up onto the train, I jumped on myself. It was a good thing I did because it started moving just a few moments later. Unfortunately, my sudden burst of selflessness left me without a proper compartment for myself. I wasn’t a stranger to sharing, but right now, what I really needed was to be alone. I felt myself on the edge of a foul mood. I needed food, I needed a nap. But everywhere was full. When I saw my sister, I sort of gave up and opened the door to her compartment. “You mind?” I asked. She was sharing a compartment with some of her friends, and I had to admit, I was rather captivated by a couple of them. I stared, openly, brazenly, and my heart beat faster when I realised they didn’t mind.
“Yes,” she said sweetly, pulling out her wand.
“Ah, Ruby,” I gave an awkward laugh, scratching the back of my neck, trying to look cute, or at least innocent. “You wouldn’t use that against your big brother, would you?”
A red bolt suddenly flew past my ear. Her smile widened.
In the end, I was left with no choice. I knew there was one compartment that would have at least one extra spot open for me.
The Golden Trio met at the last compartment of the furthest coach from the locomotive. Everyone, even the Slytherins, knew not to touch that compartment, and, so, it remained their unperturbed sanctuary. In other words, no one had the balls to intrude on their privacy. Well, at least until I came along. “Hello!” I greeted. There were five of them now, I don’t think they understood what the word “trio” meant, but I went along with it. Before anyone could kick me out or run me off, I shut the door behind me and plopped down in between Neville and Ginny. I threw my arm around them as if we were the closest of friends. “Sorry I’m late, lots of people to talk to, you know? But I’m here. So, what’s new?”
Ash gave a deep sigh, he was already resigned to it. Ron didn’t look happy, and Hermione was practically murderous. I still see that look sometimes, it’s just as arousing as it is terrifying, but back then, it just made me grin harder. Ginny shrugged my arm away and Neville looked too uncomfortable, so I just gave up.
“So?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
They all looked at each other, as if they would break some sort of sacred vow if they acknowledged my existence. Then, Hermione stood up. “Come on, Ron. We need to get going.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Aw, come on, Granger. At least give me a quick hello hug before you go. It’s been ages since I've seen you.”
“In your dreams, Potter.”
“Every night.” I blew her a sarcastic kiss.
It might seem like I’m flirting with her, and, I guess I was. She did blush, after all. But it wasn’t intentional. I’m not sure if I felt something for Hermione back then, but if I did, I wasn’t aware of it. For some reason, it just brought me an unparalleled sense of euphoria whenever I messed with her. I mean, she was an easy target after all. Rather emotional and easy to play with. Whenever I wanted a reaction, I sought her out. Plus, she gave as good as she got, and it’s always fun when you get to go back and forth. Okay, so maybe I was already in love with her. But I was definitely oblivious to it.
Hermione though… I don’t know, actually. She still won’t tell me when she realised she fell in love with me, but, knowing her, I don’t think she hated me as much as she pretended to. It wouldn’t make sense given everything that happened. But I don’t actually know, so I won’t say anything. Merlin knows she’ll find a way to read this. If you do, then remember, I love you, honey. You’re perfect and so smart. If you’re not, then ha! Suck it, Granger. I get the last laugh.
Sorry. I did say I’d try not to digress too much. But I think we both knew I definitely would.
She grabbed Ron’s arm and started pulling him out of the compartment. And, as she started stomping away, I shouted. “Don’t worry, Granger. Second place is still second best!” She fumed, her hands trembling, and Ron even turned back to gape at me. I used to consider myself brave, but now I realise I was just too stupid to consider the consequences. I don’t know how I left that train with all my limbs intact.
After they were gone, I shut the door and moved to my brother’s side. But, before I could try anything, he stood up and waved some piece of parchment. “I need to go too.”
“Already leaving me, little brother?” He always hated it when I called him that, which made me use it incessantly. “Very well then, but I’ll need you back here in seven minutes, and I’ll need a list of everywhere you went and everyone you talked to. Dad did say I had to watch out for you.”
To this day, Ash has never provided the needed documents.
And, so, I was left with two people who I knew little to nothing about. Neville left quickly after, he probably ran off to the loo until reinforcements arrived, while Ginny proved herself the bravest of the bunch.
“McGonagall made you captain, right?” She asked.
“Yup.”
“When are you holding trials?”
“Tomorrow, if I can get away with it. By the weekend at the latest.”
Ginny gave me a single nod, as if she was some sort of army general, and she was dismissing me from my duties. With an almost empty carriage at his disposal, I laid down on my back and closed my eyes.
That was the beginning of my sixth year. I drifted off to sleep, blissfully unaware of everything that would come to pass, still a child at heart. I do get better. I think this is me at my most unbearable, though, if Hermione is to be believed, I’m always like that.
I’m sure you’re itching to get to the heart of it, to get the answers to all your questions, but that’s not something I can just answer in a couple of paragraphs. I would be dismissing the importance of it if I did. So, you’re going to have to stick with me for a while. You’ll roll your eyes at my stupid little bits of insight, try to tear your hair out at all our stupid decisions, and in the end, I hope, you’ll understand why this was so important to me. As much as your mother is against this, this is my duty to you. Because even though I know this will hurt you, I also know that, in the end, I’ll be making things right by sharing this story with you.
Just remember, this is for your eyes only.