Twelve of You

Twelve of You

I got a letter from my Gran today. She says she doesn't know whether to kill me or kiss me, I guess I won't find out till I get home. Growing up with my Gran wasn't easy, oh she loved me and all, but it was hard. She had all these expectations of me, expectations that I thought I would never fulfill. She expected me to take after my parents, and though I wish I did, I know that somehow the good genes passed me by. They were both Aurors see, courageous, brilliant wizards. They faced Voldemort three times, three! But the fourth time, that was what got them in trouble. I was staying at my Gran's that night when Voldemort's supporters came to our house. They didn't kill my parents but they might as well have. They might as well have killed me for that matter, because for a long time my life wasn't really worth living. My parents are in St. Mungo's in the long term case ward. They don't know me really; they have empty looks on their faces, and stumble around in a dreamlike state all the time. My mom always wears this tatty old orange bathrobe, and she'll never let them change it. When anyone tries to take it away from her she just sinks to the floor and lets out this horrible keening howl. The med witches have just taken to leaving it on her and using charms to keep it clean and mend the holes which form on a constant basis.

I love my parents, but it's hard to go and see them. It's hard to watch them both, especially when its time for them to eat. For a long time they couldn't even feed themselves, but now they kind of go through the motions, and sometimes the strained beets and peas make it in their mouth, and sometimes they'll miss and end up with green streaks in their hair, or down their chins. Once in a while though, when my dad is staring into space, he'll suddenly have this moment where his eyes almost seem to focus in on me and he'll get this kind of worried look on his face and anxiously start patting my arm like he's checking that I'm not some sort of dream, then just like that his eyes snap back into staring at nothing and he'll fall back into his chair and it's like it never happened at all.

As if this wasn't hard enough, I had to grow up in a house where it was expected I'd be able to do marvelous things like my parents. My Gran and Aunt Enid and Uncle Algie kept waiting for me to show my first sign of magic but it never came. My Uncle was always trying to test me by putting me in perilous situations and hoping to force my powers to manifest. He practically killed me at least a dozen times, and quite frankly I was just as shocked as everyone else when I finally did, bouncing around the front garden like a beach ball. Gran was thrilled, and my Uncle gave me my toad as a gift for getting into Hogwarts.

Hogwarts; it was a relief to get away from Gran but at the same time terrifying. She always kept me at home with her, taught me herself, so I wasn't really used to being around other children. I wasn't scared they'd laugh at me, everyone always does after all, but I was nervous. I'd be sharing a room with them, sharing a bathroom with them I was scared they'd find out about me, scared they wouldn't like me.

When I arrived on the train I met this girl who sort of took me under her wing. I was hysterical because I couldn't find Trevor (that's my toad) and she helped me go all over the train looking for him. She was very intimidating, extremely clever, and she could already do simple spells which made me feel even worse because she had just found out she was a witch a month before and I'd had eleven years and could barely make my wand spark. When we reached Hogwarts we had to cross the lake in these very small boats and I kept having flashbacks to that Blackpool pier incident (I've never learned to swim thanks to that).

It was all pretty much a blur until I sat on the stool listening to the sorting hat debate back and forth on where to put me. For a while I was sure that the hat was going to spit me onto the floor and tell them to send me back, but instead it began to talk to me about Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. I was quite sure I'd be sorted into Hufflepuff (I'm not afraid to admit I'm a duffer), but the hat saw something in me. It told me I had courage, that'd I'd spent my whole life being brave. I tried to argue with the hat, and told it that on the contrary, I was scared of practically everything and it said the funniest thing. "Of course Longbottom, only a fool is never scared, but a brave man does things even though he is frightened. Yes I definitely think so... GRYFFINDOR!"

Well, I was so surprised I ran off with the hat on my head and had to go back to take it off, but I was relieved, because I knew my Gran would be proud of me. Hermione (the girl from the train) had already been sorted into my house, and as I settled down near her, the room went still. Harry Potter- he was at Hogwarts, he was here, and then pandemonium broke out as the sorting hat put him in Gryffindor. I couldn't help but sink a little lower in my seat. This was going to be terrible; I knew who he was; why every year on my birthday (which was his birthday too) my Gran always made a point of talking about him to me. He was a great wizard, every one said so and he was only my age. I found myself looking around at everyone, they were smart, and funny, and all of them seemed so much better than me that I just knew the Sorting Hat had been wrong. I looked over at the Hufflepuff table which was full of pudgy bodies and round faces and wide eyes. That was where I belonged. They were all smiling and tucking into their dinners, they didn't have to worry about sharing a room with Harry Potter.

The term started horribly, but things slowly got better, the boys in my dorm were actually really nice and friendly. Seamus and Dean, they're loads of fun, and even though Ron Weasley is kind of a sarcastic prat, he has always stood behind me or any of our housemates (he has kind of a bad temper). But the best surprise was Harry Potter. He is totally normal, smart but not a show off, and is always kind to everyone. Everyone except Malfoy- his father's a death eater, and he'll be one too, I know he will. He just has this way about him. So arrogant, like everyone should kiss his feet. He's terrible to me, just terrible. Of course he's terrible to everyone, but especially the Gryffindors.

But back to Harry, one time Malfoy put a leg locker curse on me and I had to hop all the way from the library to the common room where I ran into Harry, Ron and Hermione. Hermione helped take the curse off me, and Harry gave me a chocolate frog and told me something I've never forgotten. Malfoy had told me I wasn't brave enough to be a Gryffindor, and he looked at me and said "You're worth twelve of him."

Later that term at the Quidditch game when Malfoy was mouthing off to Ron and I, I told him exactly that and to my absolute and utter shock helped Ron try to fight him and his cronies. Afterwards Ron told me he was proud to be in Gryffindor with me and Hermione brought a whole basket worth of sweets to the hospital wing.

I still didn't really feel I belonged at Hogwarts though, especially by the end of the year. I was devastated by the fact that I'd lost points for the house, and even more devastated that the people I'd thought were my friends had turned on me. I was so ashamed. I'd tried to be brave, tried to be a Gryffindor and keep them from losing more points and Hermione had put a body bind on me. I cried when Professor McGonagall found me, and I vowed that I would leave on the train and never come back. I didn't care what my Gran said, or if I had to spend the rest of my life in that house with her and her vulture hat. Even after I heard what happened with the Sorcerer's Stone I wouldn't change my mind. But then at the banquet, Professor Dumbledore gave me ten points which broke the tie for Slytherin house and won us the house cup. People cheered- for me! They clapped me on the back, and hugged me, even Harry, and that was when I changed my mind.

Since then things haven't been so bad, oh I still have accidents in Potions, but I do average in my other classes, and am one of the top Herbology students. This year I even did well in Defense against the Dark Arts (or at least Harry's version anyway). I never knew I could do some of those things, but I'm glad I learned. At the end of the battle it was just Harry and I fighting it out with those Death Eaters, I know the one that killed his Godfather. She's the one that tortured my parents- Bellatrix Lestrange. I wish Harry would have killed her. I wish I would have killed her. I did all I could though, I stood up to them; I helped Harry, and Ginny and all of them. My heart almost broke when I though Hermione died, and I almost cried when I felt her pulse so weak in her neck. I'm so glad she's ok, Ron too, but my heart did break when I saw the look on Harry's face. I know that look; I see it in the mirror all the time. He thinks he's alone but he's not. He has all of us, his friends, us Gryffindors.

It feels so good to say. I am a Gryffindor. The sorting hat was right. This morning after I got the owl from my Gran, I left the Great Hall and ran into Malfoy- that bastard; his father was there that night. His father tried to kill me, to kill all of us. He looked at me and he started to say something and before I knew what I was doing he was on the floor and I was stepping over him and walking up the stairs.

"I'm worth twelve of you Malfoy."