Poisoned Youth | ✓

37- Diagon Alley

"Is he your boyfriend yet? I reckon you like him and he likes you from what you tell me."

My face flushed at my mother's question. It had become a habit of mine to tell her about my yearly adventures with Harry Potter and my friends— obviously not in full detail, but vaguely.

First year: "Ron won a huge chess game... Harry is great at Quidditch, he's the youngest flyer... Hermione isn't that good at the study of plants..."

Second year: "Harry can speak to snakes, it's so cool... Ron flew a car and ended up breaking his wand!"

Third year: "Hermione got into a slight brawl with this bully and she knocked him real good... Harry's godfather got out of prison— no it's not as bad as it seems, Mum! He was wrongly convicted. He's really cool and can even turn into a dog! Can I have a dog?"

Fourth year: "Harry competed in a European wizarding tournament... I went on a date with a foreigner— no, Dad, he was very proper and kept his hands to himself... I think Ron and Hermione fancy each other though, got into a huge fight."

But for fifth year, it was much harder to talk about: "I got approved to be a healer, which is a wizarding doctor like you, Mum... Harry taught my friends and me how to fight with our wands..." But as I thought about the end of the year, my throat contracted as I spoke, "actually, Mum, Harry's godfather died."

She had gasped dramatically, but I continued to talk and spoke about the good things in the year. But, being my mother, she wasn't fooled and asked me about what had gone wrong. I deflected her questions and continued to ramble; supposedly, as I talked, my eyes "twinkled with admiration" which led to her suspicion of me possibly having a crush on Harry.

"No, Mum," I sighed. "He's had a girlfriend, Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw— the smart house. I'm just his best friend."

"You know, Iverson," Mum smiled, "your father was my best friend as well. Then in our final year of school, he asked me out loads of times and, tired of the unwanted attention, I said yes. And here we are."

"Well, I don't think that'll happen. Harry doesn't seem like the kind of romantic time— very awkward, actually. Remember when I told you how awkward he was during fourth year? And then how Cho yelled at him? Not us," I scoffed. "Besides, it'll never happen between us! I don't like him."

My mother looked at me with pacifying eyes and sighed deeply. Much like myself, she loved to be right.

Just after a month had passed, I left to Hermione's house, after saying goodbye, to leave for the Burrow. Much like the time I had gone to the Burrow via Knight Bus, we did the same. Twenty-two Sickles and one headache later, we arrived at Otter St Catchpole.

"I can't wait until we learn Apparation," I mumbled, rubbing the spot on my head where I had hit the window of the bus.

"I forgot we do that this year," Hermione mumbled.

Opening the front door, I was greeted by Hedwig who hooted and lovingly pecked at my blond curls. But Hermione and I shared a confused look: Harry wasn't supposed to arrive for another week.

"Mrs Weasley?" I called out.

There was a thundering noise of footsteps and doors. The first to pop up was Ginny, her auburn locks flying in front of her. She opened her mouth, as to greet us, but I noticed her eyes narrow on the snowy owl on my shoulder.

"Mum!" She called out.

More thundering footsteps and Mrs Weasley's voice rang out: "Was that Iverson? What is it, Ginny? Is it your father? Has something happened at the Ministry? Has he been kidnapped? Is it the Death Eaters?"