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Disclaimer: I dont see why we need disclaimers, as it is a FANfiction but oh well. I own... this FANFICTION and nothing more.
I never have been one for writing diaries or journals, but I can’t hold my feelings in anymore. I think I am going to snap, almost like Ron has. I might as well write down the whole story at that. Maybe in the future, someone will find this diary and know the truth about one of my best friends, Harry Potter. To let them know he was more than just a fabulous hero, that he wasn’t only The-Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry Potter is the best friend anyone could ask for; he was trustworthy, brave, and was very caring. When others let you down, including your other best friend, he wouldn’t leave your side. If I had to go back to Halloween night in our first year in 1991, I would still choose to be nearly killed by a mountain troll, where Harry and Ronald Weasley (my other best friend) saved me and we became the best of friends.
Throughout the years, we got closer, and experienced more and more adventures, and more and more battles. In second year I was petrified (Not really the scared term, I was turned into stone/frozen), Ron helped Harry somehow, I am vague on the details because I didn’t figure out until I was unpetrified. Harry went into the Chamber of Secrets, which couldn’t be opened without Slytherin’s true heir opening it in Parseltongue. Harry can talk to snakes because You-Know-Who transferred some of his power (unintentionally, of course) into Harry when he tried killing him as a baby. He killed a full-grown basilisk in the chamber, and got rid of You-Know-Who’s childhood memory who controlled Ron’s younger sister, Ginny, by a diary.
In third year, the man accused of leading You-Know-Who to Harry’s house to kill the Potter’s escaped from Azkaban Prison, which at that time, was guarded by Dementors. Everyone thought that he, Sirius Black, was after Harry, but he wasn’t. He was after Peter Pettigrew, who was still alive, and an unregistered Animagus. He came to Hogwarts and nearly caught Pettigrew, but he escaped as Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Art’s teacher at the time, turned into his werewolf form. Harry fought a group of Dementors, and we were taken back to the castle, and they caught Sirius, but he escaped. I wont say how, even if I knew what happened.
Fourth year, Harry was entered into the Triwizard Tournament by an insane Deatheater, who acted as Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He went through 3 tasks, the 3rd one leading to the death of the other Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory. While I was in the stands, I heard rumors that someone died, and I was terrified that it was Harry. The tournament cup turned out to be a portkey and he and Cedric (They took it at the same time) were taken to a graveyard, where Cedric was immediately killed. Harry watched You-Know-Who re-gain his body.
5th year, a horrible, nasty woman took the job as the Defense Teacher. I really hated her, as well as everyone except the Slytherins. She particularly hated Harry and she took him of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She tried getting him expelled by sending Dementors to ‘Kiss’ him over the summer. Most people thought he was a joke. In the Department of Mysteries, Sirius, Harry’s godfather died, protecting him. Sirius Black was innocent, by the way.
In our Sixth year, Harry became more and more down. There was an attack at Hogwarts, more than 40 students were killed, including Dennis Creevy, Cho Chang, and Ginny’s friend Luna Lovegood. These were students we knew, in case you never heard of them. You-Know-Who Dueled against both Harry and Ron, and Ron was seriously hurt, hit a few times with a Cruciatus Curse, and then was forced to duel against Harry because of the Imperious curse. I don’t think that Ron ever forgave himself, even though Harry wasn’t angry and him in the slightest. I wasn’t there when the duel took place, because I was hit with some kind of funny curse when the school was attacked, a week earlier. Harry got out, but his eyesight was dulled even more than normal, and he needed extra-powerful glasses to be able to see normally.
Near the end of our last year, Dumbledore was attacked in his sleep, and he died the next day. The Wizarding world was shocked to hear that Dumbledore was dead, and a group of Deatheaters took over in his place. Everyone, including Ron and I, thought that Harry was attacked too, but after a week, Harry came back and dueled You-Know-Who. Their wands connected again, and light poured over the whole great hall. Harry got his curse to hit You-Know-Who, just as Voldemort hit Harry with some blinding charm, and it killed the Dark Lord and Harry lost his eyesight.
It’s been a year since then, and half of the people we knew where dead, including some of the Weasley’s. Arthur was dead, and so was Percy and Charlie. George lost his ability to walk, and Ron is insane. St. Mungo’s insisted on taking him in, but the remaining Weasley’s didn’t allow it. Harry and I went to live at the burrow. We all stayed in the basement, not because the Weasley’s forced them to, but because they chose to. Molly kept insisting that I take Percy’s room and Ron and Harry share Ron’s room, but we stayed downstairs because we wanted to stay together.
I have to help my friends. They helped me with the troll, and now I need to help them.
I’m watching Ron; he is staring at me in return. When I blink, he blinks. When I sighed, he did the same.
“Please, Ron, I’m not in the mood,” I had said, and he came up to me and gave me a hug. I don’t know if he was trying to make me feel better, or was just giving me a hug. Harry is sitting on the floor, in the corner. His eyes, which were now a faded jade color, stared out, but not seeing anything. He never smiles. I could feel my tears running down my face. Ron kneeled in front of me.
“Hermione, don’t cry, I won’t copy you anymore,” Ron’s face looked so heartbreaking, and so helpless that more tears came.
“That’s okay, Ron, I’m just feeling tired,” I said to him. He nodded and put the back of my hand to his cheek. “Why don’t you go play with Ginny’s old blocks?”
He went to another corner, one with his bed in it, and stacked a bunch up, even as it leaned dangerously, he kept going. I walked over to where Harry was sitting, and sat in front of him. He looked over my shoulder, knowing I was there, but not exactly where I was.
“How are you feeling, Harry?” I asked him.
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry rasped out, his voice cracking because of lack of speaking. “For ruining your life.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I murmured. “I love being your friend, and you know that.”
“I wish you were living in the muggle world, away from everything,” he said to me, creases in his forehead, and hands curled into fists.
“You don’t want me here?” I asked him.
“You don’t deserve this, you should be happy, with your parents and your childhood friends. You shouldn’t have to suffer being with me and taking care of us,” I could see tears running down his cheeks. “I want you happy.”
“I am happy,” I said.
“Are you?” Harry stared directly at me, accusingly. He wanted me to say no.
“I am happy being your friend, Harry, I love you and Ron, and I wouldn’t have my life any other way.”
“You mean you wouldn’t want a life like when we were younger?” Harry asked. “When we were happy?”
“You know what I meant,” Hermione muttered.
“Do me a favor,” He stated, monotonously. “Go away, far away, where you can be free, be happy. Go find a nice guy, who treats you right, pursue a great career that you dreamed of. Have a couple of children, and raise them up happy and loved. Don’t come back here and see the pain. Forget about us.”
“Harry…” I warned him he tried this yesterday.
“Hermione, you aren’t happy,” Harry snapped.
“I am too,” I had said it more to myself than to him, but he couldn’t know that.
“Please, Hermione,” Harry pleaded.
“No,” I told him simply. I had enough of this. I had been feeling that he didn’t like me anymore lately, but I knew he didn’t really mean the words. “I have an idea, why don’t we go out shopping in Hogsmeade? Go to Zonko’s… get a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks… or Honeydukes? We both like that place and-”
“No,” He told me, I felt my heart stop beating for a second there. I knew that it would be dangerous; Deatheater’s being still at large, even though they wouldn’t go to public places. I then came up with a quite devilish plan on forcing Harry to get a bit of fresh air.
“We’ll I want to go, with or without you,” I smirked, but he couldn’t see that. “Ron can come too; he’s been talking about Fred and George’s shop.”
“Hermione, you’re nuts. Completely bonkers,” Harry muttered. I could feel my lips forming an inkling of a smile. She remembered when he used to call me crazy for staying up, studying. “You can’t go out by yourself.”
“I guess I am, seeing as you aren’t coming,” Hermione grinned. I looked over my shoulder. “Ron, want to go shopping?” Harry’s face was desperate, but I paid him no mind as Ron ran over and nearly jumped on me, giving me a hug.
“I’ll go…” Harry whispered. “You can’t go out there by yourself.”
“Oh thank you, Harry!” I gave him a hug, similar to Ron’s, and Harry snorted at my tactics. It was the closest to a laugh that I had gotten from him for a while.
We made our way to Hogsmeade, via Floo Power, as we couldn’t apperate because Harry was no longer able to. I handed Harry his walking cane, and held both of their hands so that they would go far from my reach. I brought them to the Three Broomsticks and ordered 3 butter beers for us.
“I want to go to the Wheezes!” Ron grinned, his eyes sparking in his excitement.
“We can go right after we get our drinks, you love butterbeer,” I reminded him as I tucked a napkin in Ron’s collar.
“Cant we come back for them?” He asked, sulky.
“No,” I told him.
“I WANT TO GO NOW!” Ron stood up, his chair knocked backwards.
“Ron, sit down and listen to Hermione, or we can go home and you won’t go at all!” Harry hissed, moodily. One of the middle-aged barmaids glared at them.
“She wouldn’t do that!” Ron pouted.
“Ron, sit!” He crossed his arms and dropped in his seat. Whispers flooded into the pub.
“-Is that Harry Potter?-”
“-Didn’t he go insane?-”
“-That was the youngest Weasley son, the one who was yelling-”
“-Poor dear, tragic what happened-”
“-He is blind, can’t see a thing poor darling-”
“Ignore them,” I told Harry as our drinks were set on the table. “What? I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Harry asked.
“It’s Rita Skeeter,” I mournfully said as the reddish-brown haired woman waltzed over, a green quill and paper in her hand. She wore a tiny scarlet red hat with plenty of black feathers protruding through the side of it. Her full attire was red, her classy business woman top and skirt, and black nylons and red high-healed shoes. Her nails were also a shocking crimson.
“She isn’t coming over here, is she?” Harry stood up, nearly toppling over the table as he stood.
“This is great. Just when Ron was having a tantrum – hullo Miss Skeeter,” I gave a grimacing smile. “Do you need anything?”
“Mr. Potter!” She made sure to catch the attention of a few more customers in the back. “It has been years!” Ron took interest in the napkins and began to pull each one out, one at a time.
“It hasn’t. It was around a year ago,” I snapped. “We are trying to enjoy a nice evening. Do you mind not-”
“What has life been like since you defeated the Dark Lord?” She murmured, her voice as cool as syrup and threatening towards me.
“What do you think my bloody life has been like? I’m bloody blind! My friend is bloody mental! Why don’t you try focusing on your own life rather than interfering with others!” Harry’s voice was harsh and accusing, but is held such passion of rage and agony that it made my skin crawl. Ron’s eyes were tearing up and he was clutching the napkin in his hand so tightly it began to tear. The people closest to where we were sitting were sitting there in shock. Rita Skeeter didn’t say anything for about a minute, surveying him with an air of hesitance about her.
“Don’t you want to have a little word? Let a few people know how you-”
“NO!” Harry spat. “Haven’t I made that clear to you that I have nothing more to say to you?” Rita glowered at him and then snapped her notepad shut and strutted away, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
“We shouldn’t have angered her,” I said, realizing what was soon to come.
“Hermy! I want to go to the Wheezes! I want to go now!” Ron pouted, tossing the napkin to the ground.
“Let’s go home,” Harry muttered.
“NO! YOU PROMISED! YOU LIED! YOU SAID YOU WOULD TAKE ME TO THE WHEEZES!” Ron screamed.
“If you cannot quiet him, I am going to ask you to leave,” an elderly barmaid snapped and slammed three butterbeers on the polished table. “That will be 15 Sickles and 18 Knuts.” I reached into my bag and handed her 16 sickles to cover it and tried to calm myself, keeping my eye on Ron as to keep him from bursting out again.
“Can we go to the Wheezes now?” Ron meekly asked after taking a sip.
“Finish it,” Harry said through clenched teeth. “And then we’ll go.”
“Then after can we go to owl store?” Harry and I both groaned.