CH 3

10/3/75 -PETER PETTIGREW-

Potions class is super hard. 

There are lots and lots of different herbs and gooey stuff you have to chop up and melt, and it all has to be one hundred percent perfect or else the cauldron will melt or it'll just explode.

For some reason mine always seems to explode.

It makes me feel not so smart. Especially when Snivellus somehow always makes the best potions in the class- without even following the directions! I don't know why. It's not fair. He's just a dummy. A scary creepy, weird dummy. Ha-ha! At least I'm not a dummy.

Oh, well. Someday I will be a big, famous auror who beats up Death Eaters (like Snivellus!) and I will be really brave and stuff. Mum and Dad say that I'm too much of a coward to amount to anything much, but I'll show them! It's one of the reasons I hang out with James, Sirius, and Remus. They're all so cool and not scared of anything. Some day I will be like that, too. 

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Peter quietly beamed to himself as he reread his almost illegible scrawl. 

Yes, he knew he didn't have the obnoxiously-smart-but-sensitively-thoughtful charisma Remus radiated, nor did he have Sirius' chiseled features that would turn heads, or Jame's confident stride that seemed to commend respect. 

Perhaps he would never have those distinctive traits that he secretly envied even more than he admired.

But he still hoped.

He hoped that he could, step by step, mold himself to be the defiant knight in shining armor, the selfless hero that would stand above all else. The one that gave protection with a strong heart instead of receiving it with shaking hands.

It really was a shame how Fate decided to contort his destiny for its own spiteful amusement.

After all, what were the earnest dreams of a young boy worth to it?

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Madame Pomfrey usually hummed as she prepared herself for the usual
busy day ahead, filled with the tedious but enjoyable responsibility of
healing students with injuries varying from bloody fractured bones to
amusing hexes that threatened to make the mediwitch break out into a
smirk.

Recently, however, she didn't have the time nor energy to be idly
twiddling her thumbs as she patiently waited for the next broken nose from
a rough Quidditch match.

Rather, she had moved her favorite dragon hide chair away from her
favorite tea table by the window, and instead of facing the vast nature
that surrounded Hogwarts, her view was now limited to a single sickly child.

The mediwitch felt her throat constrict as she collected the potions
her patient would be reliant on for the next several weeks.

When the girl had first been brought to her... it was horrible. All that
blood all too vividly revoked the heavy memories of the First War. All those
screaming in agony, accompanied by the haunted eyes of children whose
trauma had made them wise beyond their years.

All those she could not save.

And so she was determined, so very determined, to keep this one
alive. Redemption, perhaps, for promises not kept and hungry ghosts she
felt chasing after her for things she she did do, didn't do, should have done.

Taking all that into consideration, it was quite understandable as to
why she stood there, potions vials crashing down by her feet but unable
to do anything as the expensive liquids pooled on the floor. Ice silently
spread through her, replacing the color on her cheeks with a pale mask
mixed with disbelief, shock, and horror.

Her eyes desperately traced the outline on her patient's bed which
was filled with small folds and lazily lounging wrinkles; clear indicators that
someone had been occupying bed shortly beforehand.

The patient herself, however, was nowhere to be seen.
 



 
 






 

Reviews

[_]

I didn't even want to review because i really wanted to go to the next chapter because the button is just teasing me with it being right there so expect this to end i mid sent-

[Daniel]

Your chapters kick-a*s. :)