All Hail High-And-Mighty Harry Potter

Harry, Harry, Harry. Always Harry Potter. Who gives a crap about anything beyond him? Who gives a crap about me? Why am I telling you this? I'm sorry... I just feel so mixed up inside. Especially after these many years. I was here when Harry Potter was here. And when his parents were too. I have many feeling for Harry and his family, but I think anger covers them all. Here, let me tell you my tale.

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I came here, to Hogwarts, many, many years ago. I came to help protect the students. I worked out for sometime, since I was an ickle, ickle one. I grew, like most of my kind do, and I lived happily for many more years.

But then he came along. Perfect Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-May-Have-Very-Well-Lived. But do I get any credit? NOOOO. Of course not! Even though I was assigned to help protect his parents. He would BE here if it weren't for me. How could we survive without the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Is-Going-To-Hogwarts-To-Be-Even-Greater?

So he came in his first year, fairly uneventful for both of us. We saw each other almost daily, but we didn't talk at all, and I think I may have very well frightened him. Perfect Harry Potter became the Boy-Who-Lived-Again-And-Saved-The-Wizarding-World-Again. What a surprise!

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But in his second year, boy, did things get bad. Yes sir. In his second year, he was very rambunctious, always getting in trouble; he didn't even arrive the right way. He came flying that bloody Ford Anglica. With his bloody friend Ron Weasley sitting right there beside him. And when flying that car to the castle, he crashed into some of the scenery. And isn't it ironic, the scenery started hitting him. Now Harry and his mate Ron start screaming and crying for help. And they escape the piece of scenery.

They got off scotch free. Just a detention. A detention. While the scenery was scarred both outside and in. It took him the WHOLE year to recover from the outside wounds. The inside wounds were deeper, he confided in me. I know.

Up for another surprise? Too bad if you aren't. The Boy-Who-Lived once again became The-Boy-Who-Lived-Against-An-Evil-Serpent-Managed-To-Save-Ginny-Weasley-AND-Have-Gilderoy-Lockhart-Lose-His-Memory. You probably think I'm jealous, right? Well, after the way he treats some things, I don't understand how he gets away and manages to become the hero. I never got to be the hero.

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Then in Harry's third year, there was more trouble. I still scared him, no doubt, after second year. His third year wasn't as scarring as the first year. Harry was still very disrespectful to the school and its grounds. But now the Ghost thingees (A/N: Dementors) were gliding around. Whenever they came near to All-High-And-Mighty-Harry-Potter, the high and mighty failed. He collapsed.

Oh, did that send joy through my veins, especially after second year.

But then his Professor friend--what was his name--yes, Lupin. Lupin help Harry fight off the Ghost thingees. I helped protect Lupin too. See, without me, Harry would have been finished long ago. But no thanks to me. Of course, no thanks to me.

Anyway, Harry went off to meet his godfather. Who I just happened to protect as well. And he went on to save the godfather from the Ghost thingee's kiss. What a hero.

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Then in his next year, he pretty much stayed away from me, thank god. But then he got the poor Hufflepuff--Cedric Diggory--killed. But wait! Not Harry Potter! It was Voldemort! He has come back! Nothing to ever scar Harry Potter's image.

Maybe it's just my natural pessimism that makes me hate him. Maybe it's Cedric. I've always been partial to Hufflepuffs. But there's something else. Something that says, inside of me, Harry Potter owes me, but has done nothing to repay. Maybe that's it.

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Now you've heard my tale. Now it is the summer before Harry Potter's fifth year. Hopefully, we won't have any unwanted or unexpected run-ins.

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If you haven't already guessed, I'm the--