An Ironic Title

Chapter 1: Confessions of a Teenage Wizard

"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full." I remember him nodding, his inviting smile, his sparkling, emerald-green eyes and then me, me, Ron Weasley the youngest brother out of six of us, sitting down next to the famous Harry Potter. I remember that I had acted like a fan girl at first, like they do now, well used to do, anyway. Now they're just crowding around his casket, pretending like they knew him and all, trying to get a good view of his abs more like. Harry would have hated that, I know, would have shooed the lot of them away, he was always modest like that. He had acted modest on the train that first day, too, allowing me to sit with him, answering my questions (he wasn't as uncomfortable with his fame then, I guess), even buying me some food besides those sandwiches Mum made (corned beef-ugh!).

However, I had thought myself simply a passing fancy. I thought that Harry had been thinking, "alright, when is this weird redhead going to leave me alone?". I had thought that once we got off the train, Harry would at once befriend some of the richest and popular students there, leaving Ron Weasley to himself. I had felt like a great prat (nearly as bad as Percy) when I saw what happened later. Draco Malfoy offered him friendship, stuck out his great slimy hand for it, too. I expected Harry to take it and taunt me as Malfoy had, calling me "Weasel" and all that. But he didn't. In fact he insulted Malfoy right to his face that day! One of the best memories of my life, that, well, except for Malfoy the bouncing ferret, of course. However, what really made me feel bad was the way that I would have reacted to it. Suppose I was in Harry's position and he was in mine and Malfoy had offered me that - prominence and popularity - everything that I so loved, what would I have done? I knew what I would have done - I would have taken it immediately, licking Malfoy's shoes even (ugh, the thought grosses me out now). However, five years with Harry taught me that that isn't everything and I knew that by the end of my first year, I would have done the same thing Harry had (perhaps with a few reserves, but who says I have to be perfect?). That way, when I got my prefect's badge before the start of last year, I wasn't as scornful as I would have been. Why, if I hadn't met Harry, I probably would have been as pompous as Percy by now.

Harry was my best mate, he turned down popularity for the poor Weasley family, turned down everything that makes you important in this crazy world we live in and chose the other way, the way which turned out to be the right way. Even material things didn't seem to matter to him that much, why, he gave me his Firebolt and his two main mischief-making items right in his will. Not that he had much choice, he didn't really know anyone else who loved Quidditch, but still . . . and he gave me compliments along with that. "I do have real skill, don't I?" I thought after my part was read.

Not that I'm saying Harry's some sort of saint, though that's one of Malfoy's names for him. Why do you think he had the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders Map, not just to keep them in his trunk all day, I can tell you that much! Harry, Hermione, and I, we were the Marauders of this generation, what with everything we've done (and not nearly all of it has to do with saving the wizarding world) and with Harry's temper that is quick to flare (I think my ears may be permanently damaged from all his yelling last year).

No, Harry was definitely not a saint, but he had the things that don't seem to count much in this world - but in the other they'll definitely tally them up - loyalty, bravery, kindness even to those who didn't deserve it sometimes, and love. Yes, especially love. At least that's what Dumbledore said, that it was his heart that saved him that day in the Ministry because Voldemort couldn't stand to possess someone whose heart was so infinitely pure. When I first heard that, I thought "pure, yeah, right! I guess they haven't heard of the time he cheated on that Transfiguration test." Even now it seems immature, because I think I've grown in these last few days, not just in inches (though Mum says that I've grown at least three inches since the end of school), but in knowledge. For Harry's pure in those bigger ways, in the whole scheme of things, not just a day-by-day type thing. Like when Sirius and Professor Lupin (though he wants to be called Remus now), were about to kill Peter. I know that I would have definitely let them kill that little rat (literally) and then fed that son of a bitch to Aragog (or maybe starving Blast-Ended Skrewts). But Harry didn't, he stopped them and I would have thought that Peter would have done something to repay that (but I guess I was hoping too much). Or when Harry tried to do a Cruciatus on Bellatrix Lestrange and he couldn't, and why? Because he didn't really want to hurt her, he didn't feel the need to cause pain as those friggin' Death Eaters do.

I know that Harry was really mad in his letter to Dumbledore and I can even understand why (when Dumbledore told us the prophecy I wanted to strangle him, but Remus beat me to it). However, if what Dumbledore says is true (and I'm sure it is - Dumbledore hasn't been wrong yet, except maybe with the Snape thing), then Harry wouldn't really perform the Cruciatus on Dumbledore, his heart is too pure for that. And he would never be able to do Avada Kedavra (I had no idea how he defeated Voldemort if he couldn't do that, but, hey, he's the Boy-Who-Lived).

No, he's not that angry, but he still went off and killed himself! Damn it, Harry, we were supposed to be with you till the end, mate. How could you do this to me and Hermione and Ginny (it's still hard to believe that he loved her). It's just not fair to those left behind, your heart may be pure, Harry, but sometimes you're an idiot. That's what a best mate would say, isn't it? He did so much and he still had more to do, he was supposed to graduate Hogwarts with me and I was supposed to be the best man at his wedding (to Ginny?) and vice versa with me (Hermione, I hope). He would be godfather for my kids and I would be it to his and he would teach the same lessons that he taught me (inadvertently, of course, because Harry isn't Dumbledore). But he went off and killed himself and no matter how pure his heart is and how great he is, that's just dumb.

I'm walking up the aisle to the casket now, Hermione already went up, she gave the fan girls one look and they fled (I love it when she does that). She held his hand for a bit, crying, then went back to her seat. I didn't really get that, but that's just the way girls are, I suppose. Harry always said that they should teach us the way girl's minds work at Hogwarts (would have been more worthwhile than Divination). I'm standing at the side of Harry's casket now, just looking at his dead body, his messy shock of raven-black hair, his blank emerald-green eyes, and his circular spectacles. Godric Gryffindor's sword is tucked next to him and I notice that it is somewhat bloodied (ah, so that's what he killed You-Know-Who with). He looks like some sort of war hero, but he's sixteen, goddamn it! It is then that I realize today's date - July 31^st, Harry's birthday. I can't think of anything to say, I just hold his hand and let the tears spill down my face. I hear someone come up behind me, it's Ginny. I think the two need some privacy so I leave, whispering, "Happy Birthday, mate," as I go back to my seat.