The Final Goodbye

The Final Goodbye-Chapter Two: Hedwig and Train Tracks

"Harry! It's time to wake up!"

Harry Potter opened one eye at the sound of his mother's voice and groaned. He took hold of the covers, hoping to pull them far enough over his head so as to block out Lily's voice, but she kept calling.

"Mum," he finally whined, "can't I just have three more minutes?"

He felt the bed dip as his mother sat down. She had obviously just come up the stairs because her voice had sounded much farther away before. Gently, she pulled the covers off her son's head, forcing him to open his eyes. Harry could tell that Lily had been awake for a while. She already had on her make up, which consisted of a light brown eye shadow, brown mascara, and blush. She had never been one for eyeliner. In fact, Harry wasn't even sure that she had ever owned any.

No." Lily responded to her son's question quietly and firmly. "We're going to Diagon Alley in an hour. We have to get all your school supplies."

"Oh." Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up. He had totally forgotten that he would be going to Diagon Alley today, and remembering made him much more enthusiastic. He loved Diagon Alley, especially Quality Quidditch Supplies. Once, when he had gone in there a few years ago, a famous Quidditch player named Emil Johansson was there autographing pictures of himself. Since Harry had no picture of him, Johansson had actually given him one and signed it for free! It had been the best day of his life.

"Let's go," Harry said happily, sliding off his bed as though it were a slide at a playground. He stepped over his clothes that were scattered on the floor (Harry never bothered to put his clothes away, which annoyed his mother more than anything.) and reached the door.

"Don't you want to eat first?" Lily asked, still perched on her son's bed, "or get dressed? I doubt you want to go there in your pajamas." She chuckled, her eyes bright.

"You're right, Mum," Harry agreed, noticing for the first time that he was rather hungry. His stomach roared like a lioness attempting to protect her cubs from a poacher.

He walked hurriedly down the stairs, each step making a slight creak as Harry's foot hit it. The house the Potters lived in was rather old, despite its small size and structure. Since most houses that had been around for more than a century were castles and mansions made from brick and stone, a wooden cottage only seemed as though it would last a few decades. However, according to history, this humble house had been around for at least two centuries, having sheltered the Potter family for several generations.

Almost every wall in the house showed signs of Lily Potter's hand for decorating. She had come up with her own special patterns and had physically put them on the walls herself (with help from James and their friends, of course) shortly after having moved into the house with her new husband. Since then, her creativity had allowed her to take a job as a part-time interior designer, a job she could do from home at any time. It was something that definitely helped out the family, as James' income as an Auror wasn't exactly the highest-paying job the Wizarding world had to offer.

The kitchen was covered in large sunflowers that complimented the morning sun, something that Harry's father would have rather not wanted in his kitchen (or anywhere in the house, for that matter). Yet, the man had always been willing to please his wife, which normally meant being obliged to go along with all of her decisions. The furniture was a dark, polished oak, contrasting a bit with the walls.

Harry sat down at the table in the chair next to his father, who was dressed for the day and reading The Daily Prophet, the Wizarding newspaper. Upon seeing his son, James smiled, a twinkle in his hazel eyes behind his round glasses.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "Are you excited about today?"

"Yep," Harry smiled, reaching for the oatmeal box that was on the table in front of him. "I can't wait." He paused and turned around, hopelessly looking at the teakettle that held the hot water in it. "Dad..." the boy began, "could you..."

"Sure." Without saying another word, James flicked his wand at the teakettle, bringing it over to the table and pouring it into Harry's bowl. "But, this is the last time. From now on, you get up and do it yourself." He looked at his son from over the top of the newspaper, which always signaled to Harry that his father was being serious.

"Ok," Harry replied, opening up the oatmeal box and pouring some dried flakes into his bowl. He sat and watched as they started to soften and become mush before he began stirring them.

Lily walked into the kitchen moments later and kissed her husband's forehead. Then, her eyes narrowed at the cup of tea in front of him.

"Is that all you're having for breakfast?" she asked, sounding concerned. "Just tea?"

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes, trying to do so without his mother's knowledge. For the past month, it seemed, Lily had been nagging James about not eating enough. Harry didn't see what the problem was. His father had always been very slender, something that most people would think to be a good thing. Lily, being thin herself, didn't eat much, either, and James never complained about it. So, Harry couldn't understand why his mother was making such a big deal out of his father's eating habits.

"You know I'm not a morning person, Lily," James told his wife, pausing to give her a kiss on the cheek. "My stomach's never awake."

"Can we go, please?" Harry asked, shoving as much oatmeal as he could into his mouth, almost causing him to choke. He hated when his parents were lovey-dovey in front of him. Sure, they had every right to be, but Harry thought it was unnecessary to it in front of their son. Besides, he was extremely anxious to be going to Diagon Alley, his favorite place in the world. There was no time to waste.

"Ok, go upstairs and brush your teeth," Lily said.

Harry bolted up the stairs, turned on the faucet, and squeezed toothpaste on his toothbrush. After having his toothbrush in his mouth for no more than a millisecond, he descended the stairs again.

"Ready!" He shouted happily. "Let's go!"

%^%^

Two hours later, Harry was making an attempt to drag his parents to Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had already gotten most of his school things, including his books, his robes, and his wand, and he was glad to be almost done.

Trying on robes had been the worst. At first, Madam Malkins hadn't fit his robes right. She had put the pins in the wrong places, hemming it far less than needed, which had caused Harry to slip and fall off the stool he had been standing on. To make it worse, all of this had taken place in front of Draco Malfoy, a boy whose mother had done absolutely nothing to stop him from laughing at Harry as he fell from the stool. From the looks of it, though, it seemed to Harry that his parents and the other boy's mother knew each other, but did not have good relations. They .had stared the other woman in the eye menacingly as the whole thing unfolded.

Getting his wand hadn't been fun for Harry, either. It had taken him five wands to finally find the right one, which went along with smashing everything in sight during each trial. Harry was surprised that Mr. Ollivander, the shopkeeper, hadn't just given up on him and told him to get out of the shop. However, the old man stayed calm and continued to smile with every passing crash and explosion, until, finally, Harry had found the right wand: ebony and unicorn hair, eleven inches. He jumped for joy as hard as he could, fully happy to be done with smashing everything. James and Lily had actually offered to pay Ollivander for the damage, but the old man had just smiled and kindly declined, stating that, as a wand seller, he "saw these kinds of things happen all the time".

"Hurry," Harry urged his parents, feeling as though he were already a mile in front of them. As always, they were taking their time, strolling hand-in-hand down the alleyway, as if it were some romantic getaway, which Harry didn't understand at all. Nothing about Diagon Alley's noisy crowds and bustling shops made it seem romantic to him.

"You still need an owl," James informed his son. He and Lily both stopped in front of Eyelop's Owl Emporium, a store Harry hadn't even noticed was there before.

It was a large shop, at least two hundred years old when judging from the state of the wood. The doors were French style and had wavy glass in the panes. Looking in through the windows, Harry could see a menagerie of squawking owls.

"Let's go inside, sweetie," Lily said. "You need to pick one out."

Harry sighed and walked in. Of course, he needed an owl, but Quidditch was tagging at his brain at the moment. He would much rather have a broomstick. Unfortunately, Hogwarts did not allow first-year Quidditch players; so buying a broomstick would have been a waste, anyway. Harry had much better luck with getting an owl. Plus, there were most likely much more owls to choose from than there would be broomsticks. There were a group of speckled brown ones all sharing one large cage, and two owls, one black and one gray, were fighting over a dead mouse. Others of various colors were flying every which way and landing in random spots. One even landed on an old woman's head and started picking at her hair. Her granddaughter laughed in delight and chose that one as her own.

Harry walked around the shop, surveying each owl intently. He wanted to make sure that he chose a good one, one that could be relied upon whenever the time came to deliver mail. It wasn't until he got to the very back of the shop that he made his decision. A large snowy white owl with amber eyes was staring at him, as though it wanted him to pick it; and Harry agreed to do so.

"Mum! Dad!" he said enthusiastically, "come look at this one!"

Lily and James walked over to their son as quickly as they could, although the large crowd didn't allow them to move as quickly as they would have wanted.

Do you like it?" Harry asked his parents as soon as they had reached him. The bird tilted its head toward the bars of the cage, as though it were signaling for Harry to pet it. Cautiously, Harry reached his fingertips through the bars and rubbed the owl's head. It let out a soft noise Harry had never heard before, but which he assumed to be a type of purr.

"It looks like it likes you," Lily chuckled admirably.

"It's a she." James pointed to the sign below the cage that said the owl's gender and breed.

Then, without warning, he let out a strong cough. Startled by the noise, the owl in the cage went wild and began flapping her wings as though she were having a spasm.

"It's ok," Harry said, cooing to the bird.

"Are you all right, James?" Lily asked, concerned, putting her arm around her husband.

Harry turned around, sharing the same concern as his mother, and watched his father take off his glasses and wipe the tears that the cough had caused from his eyes.

"Yeah," James replied a bit hoarsely, clearing his throat. "I think it's all the animals in here. I normally don't have a problem with them, but I think there are just a little too many here for me to handle."

"Then, we should leave," Lily insisted. Harry could see the concern still lingering in his mother's beautiful green eyes.

She picked up the cage that held the owl and brought it over to the register for checkout. She obviously was not willing to have James carry it.

A few minutes later, once they had paid for the new owl, the Potters walked out of the store.

"I think I'll name her Hedwig," Harry said, mesmerized by his new owl's beauty. "She was a famous witch I heard about once. She did a lot of cool stuff, so I think I'll name my owl after her."

"That's a good idea," agreed James, looking at the now-sleeping owl that his wife had insisted on carrying.

Harry babbled about his new owl all the way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, thinking that getting an owl was going to be worth it after all.

%^%^

A week later, Harry was standing on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters with his parents and his godfather, waiting to board The Hogwarts Express, the magnificent scarlet train that would take him on the most exciting journey of his life.

"What time is it?" Harry had asked that question at least ten times while they had been standing there. The anticipation to get on the train was killing him.

"It's ten thirty-five," Harry's godfather, Sirius, responded, looking at his watch. He was a lean man with gray eyes and jet-black hair, the same color as that of Harry and his father. However, unlike James's and Harry's hair, Sirius's was flat, not sticking up all over creation. Sirius was also an Auror, as James was, and had known both of Harry's parents throughout their years at Hogwarts, the Wizarding school where Harry would be heading to in just a few minutes. He had even been their best man at their wedding.

Harry also believed his godfather to be the most handsome man he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, which made Harry very jealous. Sirius's features were perfectly angelic, and his smile brought light to everything in a room. Harry wasn't surprised when women attempted to flirt with him in random places. In fact, Sirius had actually dated a few of those women. Actually, when Harry came to think about it, he realized that Sirius had dated every single one of them. Unfortunately, none of the relationships had lasted all that long. It seemed to Harry that Sirius would date a girl, and then somehow break up with her the following week, bringing into the picture yet another one. His godfather clearly had a problem with commitment. Harry doubted if he would ever get married....

Harry tapped his feet on the ground impatiently.

"Time will go by soon enough, honey," Lily told her son. "Just be patient."

Harry sighed and looked around at all the other students around him. There was a large round woman with five redheaded children standing about ten feet from Harry and his family. She appeared to be scolding two of the boys, twins, for some reason or another. The tallest boy, whom Harry presumed to be the oldest, was already dressed in his school robes and had a badge glittering on his left side. Another boy was looking around at the train nervously, which told Harry that he was also new to Hogwarts. The youngest-looking child was a very pretty girl, her hair pulled back in a ponytail with a yellow ribbon. She held hands with her mother and seemed not to be paying attention to anything in particular, as her eyes were wandering all over the platform. Suddenly, however, they met Harry's own, and she smiled slightly. Harry couldn't help but smile back.

Finally, after it seemed like a lifetime to Harry, Sirius announced that it was ten fifty, when the train would start boarding. The boy turned around to hug each of his family members goodbye.

"Remember to have fun," Sirius said as he squeezed Harry tightly, "and tell Remus we all said hello, even though we'll probably be hearing from him tomorrow."

Remus Lupin was another family friend of the Potters. He had also attended school with them, and for the past nine years, had been teaching at Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. However, unbeknownst to the students (every student except Harry, that is), Remus held a deep secret that, if gotten out into the open, could cost him his career.

"Ok," Harry promised, patting his godfather on the back, "I will."

Harry then turned to his mother, who seized him in the biggest hug she had ever given him, and began kissing him as if there were no tomorrow, her long dark red hair obscuring his vision.

"Mum," the boy said embarrassed, not wanting the other students on the platform to see his mother act this way, "you'll see me in a few months."

Lily pulled away from him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I know," she said, "but I'm going to miss you, Harry. I've never gone this long without seeing you."

She kissed him again and held his head to her chest.

"Lily," James began, "you're going to make him miss the train. Besides, I need a turn."

Harry felt his mother nod her head as she pulled away from him, giving him some air. She took out a handkerchief from the pocket of her dark purple robe and dabbed her eyes.

Harry turned to hug his father and realized for the first time how pale James looked. In fact, his face had blanched so much that his hazel eyes were now illuminated to the fullest behind his glasses. Harry thought this made his father look quite handsome, but wasn't exactly sure if there was some underlying reason for it.

"Bye, Dad," he said, wrapping his arms around his father.

"Bye, Harry," James responded, returning his son's hug.

Harry let go of his father and then proceeded to grab his belongs, his trunk with one hand, and Hedwig's cage with the other. The owl hooted as she was picked up from the ground. Lily reached out and squeezed her son's shoulder one last time before he walked away.

"We love you!" was the last sentence Harry heard her say before getting on the train.

The walkway between each compartment door was very narrow and crowded, and the compartments seemed to be filling up faster than Harry could count. He finally found a vacant one near the very back of the train. Putting down his trunk and Hedwig, he looked out the window and could see Sirius and his parents still standing on the platform, talking and scanning the windows of the train, looking for Harry. He tapped on the window to get their attention, but the train was too noisy, the steam engine already blowing from its pipe.

Then, as the train began to move, Harry soon lost sight of them. Tears began to form behind his eyes, but he was afraid to shed them. After all, boys didn't cry, and he wasn't the only child going to a place without his or her parents for three months.

Suck it up, he commanded himself, turning away from the window and gently placing his fingers in Hedwig's cage, attempting to stroke her feathers.

The door opened abruptly, making Harry jump and his heart skip a beat. His fingers banged the bars of Hedwig's cage, making the owl squawk and spasm once again. The boy in the doorway apparently noticed all the commotion that he had caused because he apologized at least four times before he even stepped into the compartment. Harry recognized him as one of the redheaded children on the platform, the one who had looked at the train nervously.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" the boy asked, still looking very nervous. Harry noticed that the boy was much taller than himself and had many more freckles than Harry could see before. His nose was also rather long. "My brother kicked me out of his compartment because he said that it was only for prefects, and everywhere else was too crowded to let me in."

"Oh, sure," Harry agreed, smiling, realizing that having someone else to talk to wouldn't be a bad idea and would probably get his mind off his parents and Sirius.

"Thanks." The boy stepped into the compartment, carrying an old battered trunk and a cage with a tiny gray owl inside. Looking at the creature, Harry figured that it was no larger than the size of his fist. In fact, it looked much more like a ball of lint than it did an owl.

"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," the boy said as he sat down in the seat across from Harry, extending his hand. "This is Pigwidgeon." He gestured to the tiny owl next to him. "My brother Bill gave him to me as a going-off-to-school present a couple weeks ago. I would have liked a bigger owl, you know, like yours, but my parents didn't have the money. So, Bill got me what he could afford, just so that I'd have something. We have another one, but he's not reliable at all. He practically faints whenever he has to fly two feet."

Ron sounded ashamed, his ears turning red.

"Well, I like him," Harry replied, trying to cheer the boy up. "He's nice."

Ron gave a small chuckle, one that told Harry that he didn't believe what Harry was telling him. "Thanks," he said.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, realizing that he had not yet introduced himself.

"Harry Potter..." Ron repeated the name as though he had heard it somewhere before, but couldn't figure out exactly where. "Potter...Oh, Potter!" His eyes widened. "I know where I've heard that name. Someone named Potter had You-Know-Who killed in their house about ten years ago. Are you related?"

Now, it was Harry's turn to feel embarrassed. His stomach had tightened into a complete knot.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, not sure if he wanted to go into detail about the situation, "it was my house. I was a baby, so I don't remember it, but.... Anyway, a guy who was supposed to be protecting our family turned out to be a traitor and had told V--I mean-- You-Know-Who where we lived. So, one night, he came looking for us, attempting to kill us, but, the man who had given our information to him felt guilty and arrived at our house first to tell my parents that You-Know-Who was coming. When You-Know-Who got there, the guy decided to redeem himself and fight him, so he did. Unfortunately..." Harry paused, the knot in his stomach growing larger and migrating to his throat, "You-Know-Who wasn't the only one who died...."

Actually, according to what Harry's parents had always told him, it was not clear whether or not Voldemort had really died that night. Although his body had been lying in their house, motionless and unresponsive, there were still doubts. Not understanding how people could be unsure if someone were dead or alive, Harry had repeatedly asked his parents to say more, but each time, Lily and James responded that they couldn't explain. It was something that had nagged Harry for as far back as he could remember, and he vowed someday to figure it out.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, looking as though he meant it. The look in his eyes was sincere enough for Harry to believe him.

"It's all right," Harry answered, truly meaning it. Peter Pettigrew had been a troubled, wrongful man, but he had fully redeemed himself by admitting his sins and dying for those on whom he had brought terror.

Before Ron could reply, the compartment door opened again, revealing two people this time, a boy and a girl. The boy was a bit pudgy, with short brown hair, a round face, and large teeth. Harry jumped up and hugged him as he recognized who it was.

"Neville! How are you?" Harry asked as he released the boy.

Neville Longbottom was a day older than Harry, born on the thirtieth of July while Harry was born on the thirty-first. Both their parents had been great friends and had known each other for years before the boys were born. Unfortunately for Neville, he no longer lived with his parents, as both of them were confined to St. Mungo's Hospital after having been tortured to literal insanity by Voldemort's supporters many years before. As a result, he had lived with his paternal grandmother almost his entire life. However, his grandmother made no attempts to prevent the two boys from knowing each other. Ever since their second birthdays, they had celebrated every year together, having little parties with their families. Harry had even brought a photo album to school with him that was entitled Harry and Neville Through the Years, in which Lily had put together photos from every birthday party the two had had so far.

"I'm ok," Neville replied sadly, "but, I lost my toad, Trevor, and I've been looking for him this whole time. I was wondering if you guys had seen him?"

Harry turned to Ron, and they both shook their heads. "No, we haven't, Neville," Harry replied. "I hope you find him, though."

Neville sighed. "Thanks, Harry. Come on, Hermione," he said, addressing the girl next to him. "We'll try the next compartment. I hope I didn't leave him on the platform."

The girl nodded. She was about Harry's size, with bushy brown hair and teeth larger than Neville's.

"Sure," she said. Her voice sounded a bit sour, and she had an expression on her face that said she was just that: as sour as a lemon. She gave Harry and Ron an odd, arrogant look and stepped out of the compartment.

"See ya, Harry!" Neville called back before shutting the door.

"Good luck, Neville!" Harry said, returning to his seat.

"What's wrong with that girl?" Ron asked, still looking at the compartment door, as though the girl were still standing there.

"No idea," replied Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe she ate a lemon. My mum ate a whole one once, and she looked just like that afterwards."

Author's Note: Hi guys! Sorry I hadn't updated in so long. I'm hoping to get the next chapter posted quickly so that y'all don't have to wait long. Please remember to review and tell me what you think.

~Juli