Ten Years Alone

Ten Years

At the doorway of my heart

All my fears have fallen down

And though I try to pick them up

There´s so many, I think I´ll drown

The summer sun fell to the blackness of the coming storm clouds. Children who had been enjoying the once beautiful day scurried for their perfectly symmetrical and identical houses. Within minutes of the dark clouds appearance, the street of Privet Drive had become ghostly, families enjoying a quiet dinner and perhaps sitting around the television, perfectly contented. Except one child.

As the doors of number four Privet Drive closed behind the monstrous Dudley Dursley, who had been chasing smaller children on his new bike, the back door opened. A hand shoved out a child no older than ten, a small boy, with black, untidy hair, and a slim face with a haunted look behind emerald green eyes. A voice roared to the stillness, "And you can just stay out there until you´ve bloody well learnt some manners!" The boy, Harry Potter in name, stumbled to the back fence, sinking to the ground near the shelter of a large bush.

Head in his hands, Harry willed himself not to give the Dursleys the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He knew they were watching, staring scrutinizing every move he made, finding more things that were wrong with him, extra ammunition for the guns of abnormality that were fired at him constantly. Images flashed across his mind: his entire memory summed in several constantly repeating scenes, never lessened in their sharpness, as unbidden, crystalline tears fell from eyes that should have cried long ago.

*He walked down a hall, white and plain, filled with children, people his age. Perhaps here he could find a friend. Anyone who would at least talk to him...But they all turned away. Ahead he could see Dudley, conversing quickly and then shooting an evil glare in Harry´s general direction. Those to whom he spoke turned away as Harry neared, hiding their faces, their sneers, their giggles, and their general contempt. He continued to walk, glancing at the numbers above the classrooms until he found his allotted place of torture for the year, and went through the open door. The faces he saw there showed only distrust and a hint of fear before the laughter, and the jibes began. He found no friend that year, nor any year after. *

"If only I could have one friend." Harry thought, although in truth he was not exactly sure what a real friend was, having never had one, but he was sure that they would talk, and perhaps a friend would not laugh at him. Maybe a friend would allow him to escape from the Dursleys...maybe they would even tell him, just once, that he truly was a good person...He knew such wishes would only land him in more trouble, should they be discovered, yet he could not keep himself from hoping. "If only..."

Ten years have come and gone
Ten years and I'm all alone
And all that I can do is
Pray and pray

Ron Weasley stood at the edge of Platform 9 and three quarters, watching as the train that held three of his five brothers pull away. Another year had started, another year he would spend helping his mother cook and clean. Another year he would entertain Ginny, possibly even be enticed into playing with he dolls...again! He wondered what Fred, George, and Percy were doing now...probably talking with the friends they always bragged about, or practicing their spells...He felt his mother seize his shoulder, and he was dragged off to the Burrow, and months of boredom. He wished he had a friend.

Three months later, Ron sat outside the Burrow, relishing the peace and quiet and at the same time missing the explosions from Fred and George´s room, missing Percy yelling at everyone to "just be quiet!", missing his brothers asking him to a game of Quidditch. He was tired of playing with Ginny, and the Weasleys had no close wizard neighbors, so it was impossible for him to make friends other than his brothers, and now he was lonely. Next year, though, next year he would be the one going to Hogwarts, making friends and shooting off spells left and right...he hoped.

Ten years I've seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day
But all I've got to do is
Pray and pray
And pray

The streets of London were unfriendly to those who showed signs of being unnatural. A young man walked out of a small apartment building, a worn case carrying his only belongings. He had once been a handsome man, but his young face was worn by pain and sorrow, and his sandy hair flecked with grey. He carried himself as though he expected to be attacked at any moment, and in truth he looked quit pitiable.

At the doorway of my life
I feel the pain but feel no shame
And what I've got I keep inside
Some things have changed but I'm still the same

He wandered through the streets until he came upon a secluded park. Setting down his case, he collapsed on one of the hard stone benches, and sighed, placing his head in his hands and nearly bursting into tears. Why? Have I not had enough? Did I make friends only to be abandoned and betrayed by them? The thought, strangely enough, made him smile as he remembered the times they had had. He remembered running through the forest, his lupine instincts finally satisfied with a pack around him. He remembered tussling with Padfoot as Wormtail kept watch, and Prongs yelled insults at the both of them. Oh, James. You should be here still. He remembered terrorizing the centaurs, interrupting their stargazing, or joining in on their discussions of star alignment with the intent to confuse. He remembered Christmases spent at the Potters, remembered summers spent at Sirius´. Why Sirius? Why? Remembered pranks on Snape and the Slytherins, alternate transfigurations in McGonagall´s classes, projectiles in potions...We were so stupid. We had so much fun.

The man looked up as he saw another, undoubtedly a muggle, entered the park. His solitude disturbed and his memories banished, locked away again, he rose to leave. His life would go on, it always seemed to, with or without his opinion, and perhaps in another ten years, he would finally forget, he would finally forgive Sirius, he would finally be free of prejudice. Perhaps in another ten years they would find a cure for lycanthropy, and he would once again find, if not a friend, at least someone who would talk to him, someone who respected him...

But ten years was a long time. First, thought Remus Lupin as he rose to return to his miserable life, first I must get through tomorrow. James would have been able to; I don´t know if I can.

Ten years have come and gone
Ten years and I'm all alone
And all that I can do is
Pray and pray

She did not look up as they passed, did not acknowledge the giggled remarks or the haughty smirks, but concentrated her full attention on the math text she was studying. She knew the remarks by heart; they haunted her night and day.

"Always with her head stuck in the book, her hair must stick to the pages, it looks like Velcro." "Do you think she reads because she´s stupid, or because she thinks she´s better than us?" "I heard she doesn´t even have a boyfriend!"

And she would sit, trying to block her ears, alone at the corner table at lunch, alone in the corner during recess, and, after school, in the corner of the library. Her mother worked late most days, and the girl would walk to the library, and, once her miserably easy homework was completed, bury herself in a book.

She liked fantasy the best, drinking in the stories of Tolkien, Tamora Pierce, Diane Wynne Jones, and Patricia Wrede. The librarian had asked her once, handing her The Never-ending Story, why it was that she "read fantasy so much, Hermione, dear?" Hermione had merely answered that she hoped if she read enough, if she believed enough, that it would prove, somewhere, somehow, to be true. Thus far, the theory had failed.

So she sat, powerless to change who she was, and taunted for it every day of he life. She looked at the book she was to start today; maybe this one would work, maybe this one would be the key. She knew that should she at last find magic, there was a slim chance of finding friends. But she could always hope. She opened the book, and began to read.

Ten years I've seen the rain
Comin' down on a sunny day
But all I've got to do is
Pray and pray
And pray

Surrounded by stone walls he sat, tormented by an endless stream of memories. Everything was cold, and he was alone...always alone

Had he always been alone?

No. There was a friend once...An image sprang to his mind, an old friend, and he sighed with relief at seeing a kindly face. The face swam in front of his mind, and the expression changed, twisted in hatred. You killed me...whispered the voice in his head...you killed us all...

No. I am not guilty. The thought gave him no joy, merely relief that he had not killed his friend.

There are those who now need you...What was that voice? There were several, tormenting, day and night, but this one seemed encouraging, almost friendly...your friends need you...

Friends, indeed. I have no friends, they are all dead, and those who are not think me a murderer.

Friends they are still, and there is more than one who needs you.

But how? Even if they need me, which they don´t, how? A fist was slammedagainst the rock wall, drawing the attention of the hooded figures outside the cell. I cannot get out, not by any means.

You must try...

Why? There is nothing left for me... The figure outside the cell drew closer, raspy breathing clearly heard by the figure inside, bringing with it cold. There is nothing left...I am alone...completely alone with the cold.

And if you're goin' my way
Don't think that I'll bend
'Cause this is where I'll stay
I think it's the end

The man in the cell turned his head to read the marks he scratched on the wall...ten years he had been in this cell, ten years of loneliness. Yet outside the small window the seas still raged, and above...yes, above the stars still shone. Perhaps one day they would shine on him again.

Ten days have come and gone
Ten days and I'm all alone
And all that I can do is
Pray and pray

Back by the fence behind number four Privet Drive, in the library, by the Burrow, in London, in Azkaban...they all weep, for the loneliness that has plagued their lives for ten long years.

Five wizards, thrown into each other´s lives by fate, drawn together by need...eventually, they will all find their friends.

I may not understand what you feel

I may never walk your road

ButI will stand beside you while you heal

I will share your load

All my strength I will bid you

All the care I can send,

Nomatter what we go through,

Because you are my friend.