The Other Potter: Book 7

wow this is bipolar

I awoke the next morning in the same deflated mood. Ginny and Neville tried to find the source of my sorrow but it was in vain. Luna was the only one who could really see what was wrong. Her uncanny intuition made me curious, but it had always comforted me. Today was no exception. 
All it took was for her big blue eyes to meet mine for her to know. I wanted to cry and tell her everything. Hell, I wanted to tell everyone everything. Just scream everything out at the top of my lungs. But who would believe me anyway?
"You've seen something awful." She told me, and she'd never been so correct. 
I had seen something awful. I'd seen the past and the present and the future. I had seen everyone's past. I understood why people were the way they were. I understood it all now. And I wished I could have been naive and idiotic and selfish and ignorant like I had been my entire life. I wished I didn’t understand anyone and I wished I hadn’t known how Luna tried to kill herself after her mother’s death. I wished I didn’t know how Neville self harmed to help him cope with his parent’s insanity. I wished I hadn’t known how pressured Ginny felt by being the only girl in her family. I wished I knew none of it, but nevertheless I did know it. And nevertheless, this was a burden I’d have to carry on my own.

“Do you understand now?” Lucy whispered inside my head.

“You have to leave me alone.” I said back. “I hate you. You have to get away from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be. Just fuck off forever.”

“That’s the plan.” She muttered. “I’ll never speak to you again,  okay?”

I didn’t reply, and she spoke no more. I assumed she was gone for good.

And I was glad she was gone.

She was the one who’d started all of this.

She was the reason that everything had to be so fucked up.

It’s her fault that I knew everything.

Fucking Lucy, what a fucking bitch.

I lay down on the ground, I was in the entrance hall, but that didn’t matter. I was there. That was real. Even if nothing else was real. The ground was.

The cold marble danced through my clothes and sent shivers down my body, but I didn’t move. At least feeling cold was feeling something.

I closed my eyes, and transported my mind to far away. Somewhere else. I had to get away from it all. I had to escape. I escaped into my own memory; a memory so old, I thought it was forgotten.

It was my second year at Hogwarts, I was unknowingly eleven.

“Jingle bells Albus smells, freakishly like hay!” I sang “What? He does though!”

 “Who does what?”McGonagall chimed in. I  nearly tripped over in fright.

 “Professor Dumbledore smells like hay.” I said simply.

McGonagall made a weird gagging sound, and seemed to find it impossible to hide her smile. She started laughing louder and finally skedaddled, saying; “Oh Willow.”

“He does a bit” Ron agreed.

George, Fred, Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione and I continued to walk along the corridors until just before Christmas dinner.

Hermione and I skipped upstairs to pretty themselves up.

I had put on a lace dress, those boots I loves, and a lovely jacket. My hair was braided. She wore a gorgeous shirt and jacket with the worlds loveliest pair of jeans.