Disclaimer- I am terribly sad to announce how do not own Harry Potter or anything else you may recognize or anything remotely spiffy either :(
A/N- mmk, this new story is called The Stars Up Above and so far its really long and i havent even gotten to the present yet so the next couple of chapters will still be in the past until the story jumps to her 5th year at hogwarts. sounds good? The whole story is sort of a dark mystery with random humor and romance mixed in. Please tell me if you like it so far too in that nifty review box below :)
CHAPTER 1- I am...Scared
Blank, emotionless, cold eyes happen to be one of the few things that come to mind when I think of my parents. Donít get me wrong though, itís not their eyes Iím talking about. Iím talking about the eyes of the man who started everything. Everything for me at least, no matter what he has done with his life since then he will forever be the man who took everything and started everything to me. I have no name of his man, just a fading face in my memory were he shall always be. He is in my nightmares constantly and Iím afraid of forgetting him.
Because forgetting the man who started everything means forgetting the night that ended everything, and that night's apart of me. That night changed my life forever for the worst yet I canít help but think how I wouldnít be the same person if that night never happened. I donít want to be another person though. Iím happy being Nettie Reed and only Nettie Reed, Iím happy with my life even with my dark past and even though you have no idea of what I am talking about I have a feeling that in time you will have a better understanding of my life so far. Of my sleepless nights all the way to rolling on the flour laughing for hours about absolutely nothing. I bet I sound pretty pathetic, huh? Well anyway, the reason for my dramatics is the need to tell my story. My story starts on that said night, more specifically April 22, 1968, when I was 8 years old. On that day my life changed and even my 8 year old self wasnít stupid enough to believe it hadnít. On that day a little part of me died. Never to be seen again no matter how hard I searched for it.
I donít want to bore you with the little details I remember but I feel that itís necessary if you want to get to know me. You see my life was great before that day. My mother would play with me all day while my father was at work, and when he came home we would have a family dinner and after dinner if it was a weekend we would all watch a movie with each other and eat popcorn mixed with Bertie Bottís every flavor beans. My father would drive me into town sometimes and we would go out to lunch and visit candy stores. I loved my parents more than anything as they were my best friends. We lived in the middle of nowhere and I was the only child younger than 14 who lived within walking distance. But I didnít mind. I was happy being the only child, the daddyís girl and I was never lonely. Of course I knew I wouldnít have no friends my age forever as I was due to go to Hogwarts when I turned 11, but the thought of leaving my parents for a whole school year really wasnít appealing. I was only 8 though and I would have had ages to overcome my fear and enjoy my years being a half blood witch at Hogwarts.
There was this one time when my daddy and I went into Diagon Alley for some stuff mommy needed. I still remember the feel of daddyís hand as it cradled mine, swinging up high just for the fun of it. I wanted to get some ice cream but I had to wait until everything else was dealt with, that is until I saw the ice cream store and just had to have a sample of the new pumpkin flavor. Daddy had already let go of my hand to look at the grocery list again so the timing was just right according to the hungry stomach of one little girl. I sneaked through the crowds of busy shoppers and made my way over to the shop. The ice cream was great and to this day I still love my pumpkin ice cream, but when I started looking for my daddy I completely lost it and burst into tears right on the sidewalk. My daddy eventually found me, hugged me, and scolded me but it was a horrible experience to think that I would never get to see him again along with my mommy.
I never got the chance to say good bye, let alone get over my separation problem. It all happened too quickly. I remember it too well for my liking even though the memoryís fading; the night was a warm one with billions of twinkling stars looking back at me through the circle window above my bed. I remember looking at those same stars all night, I couldnít fall asleep no matter how many times I closed my eyes and counted the fluffy sheep of my mind. I remember trying to gently touch one of the stars with my small pointer finger wanting to grab hold and pull the beauty all the way to my bed side. I would close my eyes and try to see every star in my head so I could dream of them, but when I would open my eyes I would see something completely different in the maze of brilliant light spears. For hours I would stare at those dots feeling so insignificant under the universe, a bug on the sidewalk that you never think twice about. Under my breath I sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star softly making a wish as I sang. That wish hasnít come true so far and as stupid as it sounds even today I will not speak a word of that wish in fear of it not coming true. For me, that wish is very important, and Iím not about to let it fly away into that wonderful maze of beautiful light.
I had finally fallen asleep with my last conscious thought wondering what mommy and I would play the next day. Maybe a few minutes later or maybe a few hours Iím not sure but the next thing I knew my whole world was vibrating under my bed. It was a terrifying thought that my house was blowing up but thatís what I thought was happening. That is until I heard a scream, a blood stopping screech that broke my heart, a sound I will never forget and have never in my short 15 years of living. I recognized the voice as my mothers, but it wasnít hers anymore. Her loving soft voice was taken over by intense fear and regret. Regret of what was another question altogether. My breath caught in my throat and I couldnít think right. The only thing going through my mind was ďwhy is mommy sad?Ē I needed to make my mommy feel better and that thought took me out of my warm, fluffy bed, grabbing my teddy bear on the way and out of my small octagonal bedroom.
The whole house was quiet then and I didnít know what to do. It seemed to me that nobody was there except me and being alone scared me even more than the idea that someone was in my home. Across the hall from my room happened to be my parentís bed room. The door had been wide open when I turned in the threshold and when I turned again the door was closed. Instantly I felt a chill run down my spine and considered rushing back to bed with Teddy but I knew I wouldnít be able to sleep anyway. Instead I had opened the newly closed door not knowing what to expect. The room was dark, the only light coming from the open window. A warm yet chilling breeze swayed the curtains and had made me shiver, clutching Teddy close to my chest for protection. I had seen Mommy and Daddyís bed empty even through the darkness and had immediately ran over to the window wildly thinking that Mommy had fallen and Daddy had followed. The wind made my short hair flutter around my head making me unable of seeing anything for several seconds. I looked out the window clutching the bottom with my left hand and holding Teddyís arm with the other and saw a man. Despite my horrible memory the man had been tall, thin, and slightly hunched. He stood by my favorite tree in the front yard close to the dirt road that went into town. Even from the second floor window I had still made out a gray sweatshirt with the hood over his head making it impossible to see underneath. I had been frozen with fear and just wanted everything back to normal and had started to cry. Through my blurry vision I had seen the man raise his skinny arm and pull the hood back just enough to see a small portion of his face where the shadow had missed. His eyes are my nightmare. Our eyes locked despite the distance between us, I saw absolutely nothing. They were orbs of brilliant blue but dull and unsmiling. The life had been sucked from his eyes and replaced by unmerciful hatred and pride. Pride of what, I did not know. My parents werenít in sight anywhere near the man and I was still terribly scared and worried. I was shaking and my teeth chattered at top speed as if I was cold.
As you can imagine when the aurors arrived I was so relieved I had broken down into hard sobs. Nobody was found in the house when they came and they searched all night and the next day for my mom and dad.
After what happened I was apparited right away to the guest entrance of the ministry of magic. To distract myself from the panicking wizards I had memorized my surroundings from the street names to the musky smell of an alley close by. I was scared, terribly scared, and if smelling a urine infested alley would take me away from what was happening I would have smelled 50 more. The entrance of the ministry was nothing special if not slightly entertaining but whatever I was feeling about the bright red phone box was quickly replaced by the shock I got from the actual ministry itself.
It was simply beautiful and I almost felt bad for thinking such thoughts when my parents were missing. My sleep deprived mind has left out details of what I saw and even though I knew it was a lovely sight I just canít get myself to remember even what the floor looked like, and believe me that floor had quite a staring match with me. Maybe itís the fact that everyone who knew what happened or was even there gave me the biggest eyes full of bursting sympathy. Their sympathy did nothing more than terrify me to the point where I couldnít see anything behind my soggy pupils.
That night was the longest and loneliest of my life and it had nothing to do with not sleeping a wink, not that I could anyway. All night I was questioned on anything that would help find me parents, and not even when the questioners called it a night did I sleep. Not even when I was provided with a bed far warmer and bigger that my own did I close my eyes. Because I just couldnít. Because just maybe, when I close my eyes I would see everything again, smell everything the same, and feel the exact same feelings I had when I finally figured out that I would never see my parents smile at me every again.
The morning after was oddly quiet and I didnít like it. First of all my 8 year old mind was as slow as it is now and didnít even remember what had happened the night before. Lying down in a foreign bed covered with expensive sheets designed to relax a back in a white walled room did I finally remember. And I screamed.
The next day they had found them already dead by the killing curse.
My parents died that day, on April 22. I was 8 years old and I didnít know what was happening, but I now know why those men attacked us while we slept. My father was one of the top writings for the Daily Prophet and he wrote a story on the rights of Muggle-borns and half breeds and how they should have more rights. Well, those same guys that came to my house and made my mother scream that scream in my nightmares, found out about my fatherís written story. Letís just say they didnít like it and decided to pay the writer a little visit. And you know what happened next.
But the one thing that really gets my blood boiling is that Daddyís story wasnít even published.