THE BOY I ONCE REMEMBERED ▸ [ D. M A L F O Y ]

one

"Everyone gather around! We don't want to be late!" Neville's grandmother squealed from in front of us, the tiny old woman shaking out of excitement. 

That phrase was intolerably common for the ever-punctual old woman who had taken me under her wing without a second thought. Neville had been insistent on bringing me to meet her as soon as we left the Hogwarts Express for the last time first year, determined to help the now-homeless girl from potion's class after my parents wrote me the very first letter they'd sent since my sorting: an abrupt, emotionless warning telling me I wasn't welcome home.

Luckily enough, Auntie Augusta had been more than happy to become the primary mother figure in my life, seeing as my own wanted nothing to do with me.

It had been almost three years since that day, and ever since I was fortunate to have a comfortable place to stay during holiday. I'd even try to refuse the home offer on Christmas break and other times where it was unnecessary for me to come home (as Hogwarts was still open for the school year) but they had both insisted, and any time Neville came back I would too.  Now we were about to start our fourth year of school and I had finally deemed it pointless to put up any struggle against the two.

"Geeze woman, we're going as fast as we can. It's not our fault you're freakishly fast." Neville groaned, shooting me a look.

I grinned, "Especially for an oldie."

Augusta immediately stopped in her tracks, turning towards me so quickly I didn't even notice until her finger was pointed directly in my face, "Who are you calling oldie, girl. You two are the ones who can't keep up with a baddie like me."

Neville and I immediately burst into a fit of laughter, "Granny! Where did you learn that?"

"Samantha from muggle bingo showed it to me! They never fail to amuse me, muggles and their terminologies," She shrugged, "Now! Where is that blasted portkey."

The sight before me was a funny one indeed: the old woman decorated in bright purple and lime green dress, pacing around the middle of a  forest looking for anything even slightly out of place, "Ah yes! Here it is! A wide-toothed comb!"

The three of us gathered around the rusted tool, and my stomach sunk at the sight of it. Portkeys were terribly uncomfortable, even more-so than apparition (and I've suffered from my fair share of splinchings). It was worse that it was a comb, making it even more difficult to hold on. 

Augusta looked between Neville and I, giving a slight nod to signal she was ready. The three of us pinched onto the object and grimaced, as we were whipped away from the forest. I suddenly felt my body being pulled and squished from every direction, all before being pushed out of the air and promptly falling ungracefully on the ground. Neville followed soon after me with a thud, Augusta regally gliding down in the next second.

"Now, who's ready for some quidditch?"

__________

Thousands of witches and wizards gathered around us, the air bustling with excitement. Streaks of green and red could be seen everywhere, colors of the two playing teams: Bulgaria and Ireland. Neville and I personally had never been overly- invested in quidditch, but when I found out Neville got exclusive tickets for each game (courtesy of Neville's parent's friend Beatherd Quimberly) I insisted we went.

It was a once in a lifetime opportunity after all, and gave me the chance to dress up. Our group of friends always went all out for Hogwarts Quidditch games, and I definitely wasn't going to treat this any different.

I was dressed head-to-toe in bright green, including sneakers I'd painted myself with the Irish mascot (leprecaun, of course) and so much glitter in my hair I was sure I'd still be finding it a year from now. I'd helped Neville choose his attire as well, figuring he'd look best with a forest-colored merchandise tshirt and khaki shorts.