My Wish

MY WISH

My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you and wants the same things too.
Yeah, this is

My wish.

--Rascal Flatts "My Wish"

Harry Potter lay on his back staring blankly through the darkness of the cramped cupboard. His emerald eyes reflected the little rays of light that shown from the cracks in the door. Silence. That was the only sound made through the whole house. Silence.

The young eleven-year-old boy was left shut up in the cupboard under the stairs while the Dursleys were out. He used to live in this cupboard, but because of a recent fortunate event, Harry claimed Dudley's old room as his own. The Dursleys still locked him in there whenever they went for a drive, though.

At the moment, Harry lay there lost in his thoughts. His thoughts were mostly about his life; he was looking back on all that he'd done, all that he'd been through. Doing this was horrible of course, for Harry wasn't exactly the luckiest kid in the world.

With his parents dead, he had to live with, in his opinion, the worst family to ever dwell on the face of the earth--the Dursleys; his aunt, uncle, and cousin who were wretched people that despised him as much as he despised them. They had a son, Dudley Dursley, who was malevolent and cruel as well as annoying and ignorant. Dudley was, for lack of a better word, the school bully. Harry and he were the same age and he tormented him as much as his fat-self possibly could. His aunt and uncle didn't care. The Dursleys loved their son and spoiled him way too much to pay any attention to Harry. Harry was a neglected child, a child with no caring face to acknowledge him and truly dismay for him. Not even a friend.

But there was hope in all of this. Harry did happen to find out recently that he was not normal, but unique. He was not as plain and ordinary as he appeared to be. He was, in fact, a wizard. Harry was shocked to find out from a half-giant that he was born with magic in his veins and was accepted into a school of witchcraft and wizardry, known as Hogwarts. This pleased him. He had an explanation for the weird things that had been happening. But best of all, he was going to leave the Dursleys'. He was going to another place far from here in a month's time...Hopefully this other place would be a bit more gratifying.

Harry continued to think of what Hogwarts might be like, but his contemplations slowly turned and faded out as he heard tires come to a halt and car doors slam. The Dursleys were home.

"Vernon, let him out," said a female voice that had just echoed down the hallway. It was Aunt Petunia.

"Yes, dear," Vernon replied.

Without another moment's delay, the lock clicked and the cupboard door was opened. Light flooded the tiny space; Harry had to blink from its brightness. He had been let out from his prison and he was now free to roam around. Since there was really no place he wanted to go inside, Harry made his way to the front door and out into the sunshine-filled yard.

The air was refreshing and remarkably warm. It was a beautiful day in August. Harry walked down the parkway to where the sidewalk began and strolled down the street. Normally, the Dursleys wouldn't approve of him wandering around outside, but ever since they found out he was a wizard, they had become strangely afraid of him, which is how he had gained his new bedroom. They avoided him--more so than usual anyway.

Harry sauntered lazily, feeling the pleasant summer breeze on his face. The sky was clear and a mystic blue. It reminded Harry of a wide, endless ocean that you could look up into without it dropping from overhead. No clouds were apparent just now, but if they were, they would represent the foam and ocean spray of the waves. The sun's rays shown down on the blacktop of the street. Harry trudged on, not absolute on a destination.

A few minutes passed and Harry became distracted by whatever thought entered his mind. He was so distracted in fact, that he didn't hear footsteps coming up behind him. They were heavy and of many in number. The sound grew louder. When Harry heard them approach from feet away, he turned around to see who the footsteps belonged to. They were the footsteps of four boys about Harry's age. Three were surrounding a thicker boy who he knew to be Dudley, his pathetic cousin. He had his fat fists tightly clenched and was grinning widely, as if he was a cat who had caught a mouse trapped in a corner.

"Well, if it isn't Potter. I have been in need of a good punching practice lately. Why don't you assist me?" Dudley commented, cracking his knuckles. His friends laughed horrendously.

This behavior from Dudley was strange these days. After finding out the truth about Harry, Dudley wouldn't so much as look at him, but obviously, he wasn't so skittish when he had others on his side. It didn't matter to Harry. It just made Dudley more pathetic than ever.

"No thanks, Dudley. It might overwork what little brain power you have. You'd be confused about which fist to use first, or can you not tell between your right and your left?" Harry answered smirking.

Dudley and his friends scowled. "Oh, trying to be smart, are we? Well, I'm sure you wouldn't talk that way if I pounded your face into the ground. Boys--grab him!"

In that instant, the boys encircling Dudley dashed toward Harry and began to pummel him while he struggled to escape their strong grip. One of the boys hit him, and then held back his arms so that Dudley could have a clear shot. Harry kicked, jerked, and tried everything he could to shake them off. There was nothing he could do. Dudley raised a firm fist and forced it right into the left side of Harry's face. His glasses fell off. His vision became blurry and his cheekbone throbbed. He spat out blood from the side of his mouth. More punches were thrown at him, but they were aimed for his chest and stomach. Tears began to well up in his eyes from the pain, but he would not let them spill. Harry would not give Dudley the satisfaction of watching him cry. He could endure this, couldn't he? He would have to suffer the agony until it was over.

Suddenly, a voice called out. It seemed to come from the other side of the street. It was a small voice, but a determined one, one that Harry could not recognize. Dudley stopped and looked around. Harry followed suit.

There was a little girl about Harry's age standing on the sidewalk across the street. She had thick, brown hair that fell past her shoulders. She wore gray sweatpants with a white T-shirt and lime-green sandals that didn't match the rest of her. In fact, none of her matched. She was out of place, extraordinary, but Harry didn't mind. He felt out of place too.

Her eyes were focused. Her face was twisted into a furious expression. She tried her best to look threatening, but it wasn't working all too well. Dudley gazed at her with a sneer. He didn't find her intimidating whatsoever. She was about as threatening as a cotton ball.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" she yelled. The girl strutted up to them. It wasn't until she stood next to him that Harry realized just how unconvincing she was. She was about his size. The young girl was no competition for Dudley and his gang.

Dudley and his friends sniggered. "Oh yeah? What are you playing at? Going to beat me up? I'm so scared."

The girl faltered and backed off a bit, comprehending finally that she indeed was no match for them. Then, almost immediately, she changed course and a strange, abrupt look of shock swept over her face. She turned her head and stared down the street. She pointed her finger out in the direction she was looking towards. "Look! It's the ice cream truck!"

"Where?!"

WHAM!

Dudley was punched hard in the face and knocked down to the ground as he turned to look where the girl was pointing. It so happened that while Dudley was searching for the ice cream truck, the little girl seized her chance and threw a punch. Dudley glanced up at her with an expression of mere wonder. How could a girl her size throw such a hard blow? Out of fear, Dudley scrambled up to his feet and ran. His friends dropped Harry--who fell hard--and sprinted to catch up with him.

As Harry fell, the wind was knocked out of him. He had trouble breathing. He bent over on his hands and knees and drew in deep breaths until his breathing was normal again. Harry stared down at the concrete sidewalk and noticed that his vision was still fuzzy. He felt around for his glasses. When he found them, he placed them gently on the bridge of his nose and looked around.

"Here," said the girl who stood over him. She held out her hand to him.

Harry gladly took it and the girl pulled him back on his feet. He swayed slightly on the spot. He felt a tad light-headed from the dreadful bash to his head. When a few seconds went by, his surroundings became clear again and he took a harder examination of the girl that was poised before him.

The girl was an odd thing, long and untamable hair held back by a brownish-tan headband that didn't belong with anything she wore. She had baggy clothes, but comfortable surely, and bright green sandals that were too big for her feet. The only things that made her look somewhat decent were her eyes--her deep, soulful, grayish-blue eyes. They were sapphires in a tenebrous cave. Harry was intrigued by such eyes. What was more, she had beautifully long eyelashes that dressed them perfectly. The average person might have thought her inconsiderable and would have passed her by without recognition, but Harry wasn't the average person. Her dress made Harry feel, if anything, better about himself, for he too felt abnormal with oversized clothes, broken glasses, unkempt hair, and now an ugly bruise on the left side of his face. She seemed very young, even though they were both about the same height. He knew she couldn't be any older than nine years old. If she was, Harry wouldn't believe it.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you," Harry replied, rubbing the bruise on his face.

"That looks awful," the girl said with concern. She took Harry's hand away from his face to get a better glance at the abrasion. She made a disgusted face. "That was a nasty hit...You've got blood dripping down your chin by the way."

Feeling embarrassed, Harry wiped the blood away on his sleeve. He felt around his mouth with his tongue and found that there was a cut on the inside of his cheek. It was bleeding. His tooth must have scratched it when Dudley hit him. He spat out more blood.

"Come with me," the girl said in a rush and with that, she grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him along with her as she sprinted in the other direction. Harry was surprised by how much force the young girl applied on his arm. She seemed to be dragging him more than pulling. Harry stumbled, trying to keep up. He had no idea where she was taking him.

When Harry and the girl finally reached their intended location, it turned out to be a lonely tree by the nearby park that was familiar to Harry. He had never looked twice at this tree, but now that he was near it, it seemed large and sturdy. Its many branches were separate and sort of sprawled out like fingers. Each branch could amply hold a person on it. It was the perfect tree to use for a couple of friends who wanted something to climb, sit, and chat in.

The girl told Harry to sit under the tree and to wait there. He watched her as she dashed off to a house across the street where she lived. Harry wondered if he should wait. Who was she and what was she doing? He figured he could just get up and leave, but despite what he wanted to do, he rested there and anticipated her eager-self emerging from her front door.

The wind blew through the tree branches. Its limbs swayed overhead as they provided shade from the blazing August sun. Harry watched the shadows of the shimmering leaves on the grass that was cool beneath his hands. It smelled fresh, fresh enough that it calmed him as the somnolent summer usually did to most.

Five minutes later, a bouncing figure came toward Harry holding a white, rectangular object in her hand. The girl sat down next to him on the grass and handed him the object. It was cold to the touch. It was an icepack wrapped in a clean, white towel. Harry knew it was for his cheekbone, which ached irritably. He set it there. It was as chilly as winter, but the towel was as soft as powder. The icepack, at first, felt bitterly cold and it made him shiver from the sudden temperature change on his skin, but after a moment or so, it soothed the pain.

"That should help," the girl said with a gracious smile on her face.

"Thanks," said Harry meekly.

"No problem."

The girl then sat on the roots of the tree with her back against the trunk. She raised her eyes to the branches and closed them as if listening to a song in the wind that Harry could not hear. He felt awkward; he spoke to break the silence.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

She turned her head to him and answered with a gentle, friendly voice, "Erika. Spelled with a 'k,' not a 'c' or 'ck' like every other Erika in the world."

Erika grinned in self-delight. It seemed to be her own personal joke that Harry didn't completely understand.

"I'm Harry," he responded.

"Nice name. I like it," Erika said plainly.

"I like your name," Harry told her. "I don't know anyone by that name."

"That's why I like it. It's pretty and common, but not too common, you know? I mean, if it was Jessica or Kaitlyn, I'd be screwed! Half the girls in my school are named Jessica or Kaitlyn."

Harry laughed lightly. Erika was amusing. She said "I'd be screwed!" in such a way that her voice volume went higher and her face lit up, which made her look quite comical. He could tell that her personality was bubbly, but not annoyingly so. She liked to entertain him. He understood that a laugh, to her, was a compliment.

"Listen, thanks for sticking up for me back there, but I probably should tell you to stay away from Dudley's gang. They could rip you in half," he mentioned. It was off subject, but he had to thank her before he forgot.

"I know," she said, her eyes growing wider. "They're huge, or at least the one I hit was. I wasn't going to hit him but...I had to do something."

"That was clever--the ice cream truck bit. I wouldn't have thought of that. If I wasn't in pain at the time, I would have laughed."

They both grinned.

"Yes. Quick thinking really. Lucky for me it worked. I surely would have been crushed."

"Yeah, nine-year-olds like you shouldn't be looking to pick rows with blokes like Dudley and his gang," Harry noted, but then realized a little too late that he said something he probably shouldn't have said. Erika looked at Harry with her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes glaring.

"I'm eleven."

He stared at her in true astonishment.

"What?"

"I'm eleven, not nine."

Erika stood up and started to climb the tree they were sitting under. She settled herself on one of the thickest bows. Harry guessed she did this often. "People always make that mistake!" she called out angrily from above.

"I'm sorry," Harry yelled up to her, really meaning it. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh, that's all right," she sighed. "It's not your fault. It's just the way I am." Erika let her feet dangle over the side. Her green sandals slipped off and hit the ground with a quiet thud. "I look younger than I actually am and so people always assume that I'm nine, eight, or even seven. I hate it! But I guess it's okay. When I'm thirty, I'll look twenty-five and people will be jealous."

Harry smiled. "I suppose you're right. But I really am sorry. I feel like an idiot now."

"Oh no, it's fine. Really, how were you supposed to know how old I was? But anyway, how old are you?"

"I turned eleven on the thirty-first."

"Really? Nice...Hey, how is your bruise doing now?"

Harry removed the icepack and felt the purple spot on his cheekbone. It, amazingly, had healed itself exceptionally well over the past few minutes.

"It feels better," he called up to her.

"Cool, then put the icepack down and come up here," Erika suggested back.

"What?" Harry questioned.

"Climb the tree."
Harry gaped at her, thinking she was mental, but then he had the sudden desire to do just that. He saw that she enjoyed the view from where she sat and there was plenty of room for him on a limb right across from her. Sure, a few hours ago, he never imagined he would be sitting in a tree with a girl he had just met, but it was better than lying in a room with nothing to do. Harry grasped a lower bow and held it tightly. He pulled himself up onto it and began climbing to the top, just as Erika had.

Once he arrived at the top, he set himself down on the branch opposite Erika. He glanced around. He could see why she liked it up here. The breeze was crisp, the air was sweet, and you could see everything within a few yards around. There were also charming pink blossoms growing on the branches that smelled positively exquisite. Harry gazed at Erika. She was beaming at him.

"Pretty up here, isn't it?" she inquired.

"Yes, very," he answered.

"So, how long have you lived here?" Erika said, shifting her position so that she faced him completely. She set her bare feet upon the coarse bark of the tree branch. It was only now that Harry noticed her toenails were painted a blood red.

"As far back as I can remember," Harry said.

"I've never seen you," Erika stated, shaking her head.

"No, I...I don't come out much."

"Why?"

Harry paused. He didn't want to answer. He didn't feel like talking about the Dursleys. "Er...I dunno...I just don't feel like it, I guess."

"Why? Don't you have friends?"

Harry stopped. This was a good question to ask, but not one that Harry wanted to justify. Should he lie? Must he mention how his aunt and uncle treated him and how his cousin bullied him everyday? Should he tell her about how everyone at school hated him and tormented him because of his horrible clothes and broken glasses?

"Yeah--I--I have friends," he said hesitantly.

Erika gave him a hard look.

"You're lying," she said flatly.

"How can you tell?" asked Harry, giving her a nervous grin.

"You didn't say it too confidently and I can see it in your eyes. So you don't have friends, is that right? You can tell me the truth. You can trust me," she said with a soft smile. She stared at him with her kind, hypnotic eyes.

She was being so courteous and amiable to Harry that for an instant, he felt that he could trust her...but should he?

"No...well, I do have one friend," Harry started, speaking truthfully this time. "Her name is Hedwig. She's my owl."

Erika's eyes sparkled.

"You have an owl?"

He probably shouldn't have told her that.

"Well...yes--but I--"

"That is so cool! Can I see it?" Erika requested excitedly.

"Erm...no. I...look...don't tell anyone I have it, okay? I don't think...I don't think people should know about it. And could you please not ask why people shouldn't know? Because...I can't tell you. Okay?"

"Alright," Erika said simply with a puzzled look on her face. "As long as you tell me why you don't have friends--human ones, that is."

Harry glared at her. Why was she so desperate to know?

So Harry told her mostly everything about his life and the way he lives. He told her about the Dursleys, how his parents were dead, and how nobody seemed to care about him. He didn't know why he didn't have friends. All he knew was that he didn't have any and he probably never would make any. Harry focused his eyes at the ground the whole time he explained. When he finished, he looked up at Erika who was staring fixedly at him.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I can't believe...Wow...That's awful. I wish I could do something...Well...I can do something."

"What?"

Erika paused. "I can be your friend."

Harry's gaze fell back to the green grass below. What should he say? He really would like a friend, and Erika seemed perfect for the job, but what he couldn't understand was why? Why did she want to be his friend when no one else did?

"I hope you don't mind me asking," he began, "but, why would you want to be my friend?"

Erika changed her position on the tree limb so that her feet dangled over the side once again. She occurred uncertain as she watched her feet swing rhythmically. She then raised her eyes to him and spoke in the most heart-warming voice he had ever heard her use.

"Because...everybody needs somebody to turn to...I could be that somebody...if you want me to be."

His emerald eyes met her sapphire ones and lingered there for a moment. There was gentleness there, gentleness that Harry had never known before. It was encouraging to know that he could be liked for who he was instead of being loathed for a change. He knew she was right. Everybody needed somebody. It would be nice to have a friend. Why pass up this opportunity?

"Sure, okay," Harry told her.

Erika smiled. "Cool."

They conversed for hours. They talked about random things such as what sort of things Harry did in his spare time or the reason why Erika never wore jeans. They talked as if they've known each other forever--best friends...something Harry had never been a part of in his life.

"Jeans are just so...tight and uncomfortable. I never wear them. I only wear sweatpants. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. It annoys the heck out of my mum. 'Don't you worry about what the other kids think of you?' she asks me. But I always say, 'No, Mum. I don't care and you shouldn't either.' Sweatpants are comfortable and I'd rather be comfortable than fashionable," Erika declared.

Harry nodded in agreement.

"That makes sense. Of course, I don't get a choice in what I wear. I always get Dudley's old clothes, no matter how much they don't fit me. My aunt and uncle don't care about me whatsoever. Which is alright, I guess. I couldn't care less. I can't wait until I'm gone to Hog--"

He was about to go into detail about his departure to Hogwarts but he stopped himself short...Too bad Erika was too curious for her own good.

"Gone? Gone where?" Erika asked.

He wavered. "Err...to...school."

"Oh, what school?"

"Erm..." Harry tried to make up a story quickly, but before he could utter another syllable, he lost his balance and fell over the side of the tree branch he was sitting on. He clumsily grabbed the next limb down to stop himself from falling, but it slipped out of his grasp. He fell roughly on his stomach. The wind had been knocked out of him for the second time that day. He heard Erika take breath in sharply from above and then a heavy thump two yards away from where he lay. Erika scrambled over to him to help him back up.

"Are you okay?" she said.

"Yes," Harry responded, wincing in discomfort. "I'm fine, don't worry...slipped."

"I'll say...Hey, what's that?"

Erika turned away from him and ran to a spot a few paces behind Harry. She bent down and picked something up from the grass. It was a piece of paper folded up in fours. Harry panicked. He searched his pockets desperately...hoping against all hope that it was still there where he left it...that the paper in Erika's hand was not what he thought it was. He had put it in his pocket that morning after reading it for the millionth time, still having a hard time believing the truth. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he fell.

Erika unfolded it to read it.

"No, please!" Harry yelled. He tried to snatch it out of her hand, but she hastily turned her back to him and kept the letter out of his extension.

She whispered the words to herself as she read them and her blue eyes gleamed and shot agape when she came across the words "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy." She finished reading the letter and gave it back to Harry with a confused expression on her face.

"Is this real?" she asked. "Or is this some kind of joke?"

Harry glanced at her. What should he say? What if he told her the truth? Would she think him mad or a freak like his aunt and uncle? Could he convince her that it was a joke, that it really wasn't an acceptance letter to Hogwarts, but a fake? He knew that he couldn't. He had figured it out long before now that Erika had a special way of seeing right through you and knowing when something was true or not. She was no idiot.

"No, it isn't a joke. Look--I probably shouldn't tell you about it. I don't think I'm allowed to--but I will and before I do, you have to understand something. You can't tell anyone. Do you understand me? You--can't--tell--anyone," he said slowly, but strongly.

"I understand--now tell me!" she exclaimed ecstatically.

He began his story. He told her about Hagrid and how he found out he was a wizard along with the fact that he had been accepted to Hogwarts, a school of magic where he would be going in a matter of weeks. After he finished, she appeared stunned. He was humored by the look of interest painted upon her cheeks.

"Wow," she whispered. "I...I can't believe it."

"You don't believe me?" Harry interrogated.

"No, I believe you, I just...I never would have believed that witches and wizards and magic were real. I've always hoped...but, I just...that's...that's awesome!"

"Well I--wait. What?"

"That's cool! You can do magic? Sweet! I wish I could."

Harry was slightly confused. She thought it was cool he could do magic? He wasn't used to this. He was used to being thought a lunatic because of his magical ability by the Dursleys. Harry had never been appreciated and it was a wonderful feeling. In fact, it was a mark of their new found friendship that she didn't think he was lying or joking about being a wizard.

"You--you think that's cool?" he asked stupidly.

"Of course I do. Can you really do magic? Do something, I want to see it!"

"I can't. I don't know how to do magic yet."

"Oh...right. Of course. How silly of me. Do you think you can show me something when you learn how?" Erika wondered.

"No..." Harry told her timidly. "I don't think that's a good idea. You're lucky you even know about magic. I wouldn't push it."

"Right. Understood."

And Erika dropped the subject.

The sun began to set and the air was suddenly cooler. Evening was falling and there was a voice that called out from a distance.

"That's my mum," Erika said. "I have to go. But, I'll see you tomorrow, right? I'll come to your house. Where do you live?"

"No, you better not. I don't think the Dursleys would be too grateful if they knew I had a friend. I'll come to yours. It's that one across the street, isn't it?" Harry said.

"Yes. Well...I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. It was nice meeting you," Erika said turning away and heading toward the road.

"Yeah, nice meeting you--and Erika?"

Erika paused and turned her head at the sound of her name.

"Thanks," he said shyly. "For everything...and you will keep my secret, won't you? It's very important that you keep it to yourself."

She smiled. "Of course I'll keep it--and you're welcome. Bye."

"Bye."

And with that, she disappeared behind her front door, leaving Harry with the glorious feeling that it was actually possible that someone in this world cared whether or not he woke up the next morning.

~

The next day, and many days after that, Harry met up with Erika at the tree where they would spend hours talking and laughing together. They would spend sunny afternoons swinging from the tree's branches and playing childish games that eleven-year-olds usually played. Sometimes they would mock Dudley and his gang nearby and when he would chase them, they would quickly climb the tree and laugh as he'd fruitlessly attempt to climb after them. Yes, it was all fun and games...until the day finally came...the day when Harry would leave for Hogwarts. The evening before the day he was to leave, Harry was all ready and packed and he stood under the tree with Erika. They had to say goodbye.

"Make sure you tell me everything when you come back," Erika demanded. "Tell me about the friends you meet, your teachers, and the spells you learn, and stuff, okay?"

"Okay, I will. So...I'll...I'll see you next summer?" Harry said reluctantly. He hated saying goodbye to her.

"Yeah, next...next summer," she said, just as reluctant. She didn't want to say goodbye to him either.

Harry felt uncomfortable now. He wasn't quite sure what else he should say, until Erika took him by surprise and hugged him. Harry received her hug clumsily, but still gratefully. He didn't get hugs too often. It made him feel again that awe-inspiring feeling that Erika usually gave him, a sense of compassion and caring, the feeling that he was wanted.

Erika pulled away. The pools of blue staring back at him were glazed with tears, but beautiful.

"I'm going to...miss you," Erika said with a sniffle. "I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see you..."

And they turned away and didn't look back.

~

The months passed by and Harry endured his first school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Having been through one of the most interesting school years of his life, he couldn't wait to see Erika when he returned, couldn't wait to tell her what adventures he had experienced knowing that she would be thrilled to hear the tale. He never knew that he would ever have a reason to be eager about coming back to Privet Dr., but because of Erika, he did. He met up with her at the tree near the playground almost the minute he arrived.

"Harry! You're back!" she said enthusiastically. She threw her arms around him. He stumbled back a little, just missing a low tree branch. Erika released him and stood back to examine him. "You've gotten taller."

"So have you," Harry said, observing his friend.

She gasped as soon as he finished his sentence.

"What?"

"Your voice," she answered with a hint of laughter in her words. "It's deeper."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is. I swear it is."

"It isn't."

"It is! I know what your voice sounds like, Harry Potter, and compared to how you sound now, you could have been breathing helium a year ago." She shrieked with laughter.

"Shut up," he said, chuckling himself.

"No, you. Your voice is making me laugh." More giggles escaped her lips as she spoke.

Harry scowled at her.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Erika apologized.

She began climbing the tree.

Harry noticed her as she clambered up the tree and he realized that what he had mentioned to her earlier was perfectly true. She was taller. Now that he looked at her properly, she was definitely taller than when they last met. She still had that young look about her also. She had her long brown hair in a headband, but the headband was a different color. It was now a dark, navy blue. She also ditched the green sandals for white sneakers. Erika's clothes matched. She wore nice, clean blue sweatpants and a white shirt with dark-blue sleeves. It was true, Erika had changed, but what hadn't changed was her unusual, awkward individuality. That hadn't changed at all.

Harry climbed up after her and sat in his place across from her. She seemed restless. She was in a fit state to burst.

"Okay--tell me everything! What's Hogwarts like? Who did you meet? What spells did you learn? Come on! Spill! I'm dying here!" Erika said, the words spewing out of her mouth so fast that Harry caught only half of it.

"I knew you'd act this way," Harry said, grinning widely.

He divulged into the story of riding the Hogwarts Express, meeting Ron and Hermione, taking classes, his teachers, and how he stopped the man who killed his parents from stealing the precious Sorcerer's Stone.

"And then I found out that it was Quirrell. He was trying to steal the Stone, but he wasn't trying to steal it for himself. He was trying to take it for Voldemort--who happened to be living on the back of his head!"

"Are you serious? On the back of his head?! Intense!" Erika screamed. She was trembling with elation. She nearly fell from the tree limb she was sitting on, but luckily caught a hanging bow in time.

"I'm not kidding. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. But I must admit, I thought I was going to be dead for sure."

At this, Erika straightened up and stared at him with concern written on her face.

"You...you mean you could have...died?" she asked gingerly.

"Well...yeah, I guess--but I didn't. I survived," Harry said.

"Well, duh," Erika replied. They both laughed.

Then silence fell between them. Harry knew why Erika had been so worried. This was, he was sure, a pretty big deal in her mind. She probably had never been through anything like Harry had. Her parents were alive and she didn't have somebody out to kill her. She was safe and the idea that someone her own age came so close to being murdered was a wild idea. It was probably something her young, innocent mind never thought possible.

"But don't worry about me," Harry said, breaking the silence. "I'm all right. And Dumbledore said that because my mother died for me, I have some sort of magical protection over me. Voldemort can't touch me. There's no need to worry."

"Oh...Well, that seems fine then...I guess. I mean, that's better than no protection, right?" Erika responded. "So...you have friends now, don't you?"

Harry was delighted that the topic was changed to more of a joyous one.

"Yes, Ron and Hermione. Ron's really funny, even when he's not trying to be. And Hermione is extremely smart, although, she can be annoying at times, but I think I passed my exams mainly because of her. They are really great. I wish you could meet them."

Erika beamed brightly. "I wish I could too. I'm so glad you have friends there, Harry."

Harry just smiled at her. Being friends with Erika made living at Privet Dr. a lot easier, but he still missed Hogwarts...And of course, he had no idea that he would make an early departure from Privet Dr. that summer.

Naturally, Erika was upset when she discovered that Harry was no longer at the Dursleys' one day. It seemed that he had escaped to his friend Ron's house. He told her the whole story of escaping through his bared-up window in a flying car when he came back the following summer. That was the trend. Harry would see her every summer and leave before July was even over, but always come back the next June to tell Erika all about his most recent daring achievements.

But the June before Harry's fifth year, things felt different between them. Erika had changed--more so than before. Harry had noticed the moment he saw her under the tree. Her hair was as long as ever but it had blonde streaks in it and it was straightened. She no longer wore a headband. She let her bangs grow long and she wore clothes that were usually worn by teenagers at this age. This day, she wore tight jeans (she started wearing jeans for the first time nearly three years ago) and a tank-top with a t-shirt overtop, which suit her style sublimely. There were black low top Converse shoes on her feet. She was also taller (but shorter than him) and no longer the awkward pre-teen she once was. She was elegant. Erika grew up into a lovely fifteen-year-old girl and he was to turn fifteen in a few weeks. She grew up and so did he.

But they still ventured up the tree like they did when they were kids, which seemed much smaller than the last time he saw it. He figured that everything must have appeared bigger when you were small.

They sat in the tree as Harry told her all about his fourth year...but this time, he wasn't so enthusiastic. He was afraid to tell her about what had happened a mere two weeks ago.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked him.

Harry felt queasy. He wanted to lie, but he knew he couldn't. Not to Erika.

"Er...no. No, I'm not," he said.

"What's wrong?"

Harry informed her about Voldemort, how he came back to human form, and worst of all, that he was no longer protected by his mother's magic.

Erika breathed and covered her mouth with her hands. When she removed them, she whispered, "Oh my gosh...That's horrible."

"You have no idea," he said, his voice shaking. He focused on a knot in the branch so he wouldn't have to look at her. He tried to keep his voice steady, but that proved to be difficult, so he didn't say anything more.

Harry glanced over at Erika and saw that she had brought her legs up to her chest and hugged them, still keeping her balance by holding the branch in between her ankles. She had a countenance of shock and fear. Her forehead wrinkled with anguish as she gazed down at an ant that was now crawling over the bark.

"I'm sorry," she spoke faintly. "I'm sorry you have to go through this...If I could...I would trade places with you."

Harry glared at her with rage. What made her say such a thing? How could she want to trade places with him? Why would anyone want to experience such things that he had experienced? She didn't understand. She didn't get it. The most dangerous wizard in the entire world had just come back to power and now he was in more danger than he had ever been in. How could anyone want that?

"What? How could you say that?! I can't believe you! You don't understand! There is a killer after me! Why in the hell would you want to trade places with me?!" Harry shouted.

Harry made to jump down from the tree branch and storm off, but stopped when he made a quick glance up at Erika and her dazzling eyes. Tears were building up in them, but they didn't roll down her cheeks. She was holding them back. She was trying to be strong. Harry had frightened her with his shout and he knew it. Guilt flowed through him as her passionate eyes poured into his luminous ones and Harry felt frozen to the spot. Her eyes were mesmerizing. She took this chance to speak.

"Because...because I would rather feel your pain than have you feel it...I wish...I could feel your pain for you so you wouldn't have to. I really care about you, Harry."

Harry sat still. He couldn't comment. He was lost for words. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. It was one of the most admirable things he had ever heard from a friend. All he could do was stare at her, dumbfounded, until he found his words again.

The sun was setting quickly now. Night was falling all around them as streetlamps flickered on and crickets began to chirp their mystical songs. A chilly breeze swept through the tree and the leaves rustled.

"Harry, I'd better go...But listen...be careful. I have a feeling that things are going to get worse before they get better...so...take care of yourself, okay?"

He nodded.

And Erika jumped down from the tree gracefully and sprinted across the street to the place she called home. Harry watched as the soulful sapphires disappeared into the night.

~

The next summer wasn't any better for Harry...

He actually didn't plan to meet Erika this time. He didn't want to talk to anybody. Harry had just found out a horrid truth...but still worse...his godfather, the last member of any kind of true family he ever knew...was dead. Sirius lost his life behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries...and nothing could fill the gaping hole Harry felt. Nothing.

One afternoon, he lay on his bed in Dudley's old room and gazed up at the ceiling, minding the sun's rays casting shadows around him. The room was quiet, until he heard a small tap on his window. He sat up at the sound, but there was nothing there. He lay down. Tap. Sat up. Nothing. He questioned his own sanity and lay back down. Tap. Sat back up. Nothing. The tapping continued until he finally got irritated with it and walked over to the window. He looked down and saw a chestnut-haired figure sneering up at him with a hand full of pebbles. She tossed another pebble at the window to annoy Harry with more tapping. Harry couldn't help but grin. It was Erika.

"What?" Harry yelled to her.

Erika beamed wider and hurled another pebble.

"Stop that!" he called out, but then realized that she probably couldn't hear him, so he turned the latch and opened the window. Cool air rushed in and he could hear the noises of the outdoors more clearly.

"Stop that!" Harry repeated, half laughing.

"Come outside," she said. "You owe me an explanation for why you left so early last summer."

His smile faded. He didn't want to explain the dementor attack and his early departure to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He didn't want to explain anything. It would only lead to describing his school year at Hogwarts, the ridicule he had suffered, and the excruciating memory of Sirius's death.

"No, I...I don't feel like talking right now. Look, could you come back later? I'm kind of...er..."

"What's the matter? There's something wrong. I know there is," she said.

"No, it's...nothing." He looked away from Erika's lie-detecting, spellbinding eyes.

"Harry, come out! Don't make me come in there and drag you out because I will!" she called up to him, folding her arms and smirking.

Harry felt uneasy. Knowing Erika, she probably would.

"Erika, I don't want--"

Harry was about to argue, but he knew that it would have done nothing to help.

"Fine," he sighed and he closed the window.

In a few minutes, he was sitting on the ground underneath the tree with Erika at his left. He told her resentfully about the dementors last summer and the hell he went through throughout his school year. He even talked about Cho, a topic she was quite intrigued about. However, he soon stalled. He had come to the matter of the prophecy. He didn't tell her everything he knew about it. He hadn't even told Ron and Hermione, and it wasn't fair to tell her and not them so he only told her the important part--that he either had to kill or be killed.

Erika just gaped at him. Harry kept his eyes on the grass before him. Throughout his story, he let out some of his anger and frustration, being careful not to raise his voice directly at her and this made him feel somewhat better. The knot in his stomach seemed to loosen some, but he still didn't mention Sirius. He didn't want to go there.

"Your story," Erika began, "is the most phenomenal story I have ever heard. Someone should write a book about it."

This thought actually made Harry laugh.

"I don't think so. That could mean more fame and that's the last thing I want right now."

Erika nodded.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Quietness grew there until Erika became curious and began to ask him more questions that were on her mind.

"So, how are Ron and Hermione?" she wondered.

"They're fine, I guess. They bicker a lot. As usual," Harry responded.

"Do you ever miss them during the summer?" she asked, plucking up blades of grass with her fingers as she said it.

"Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"Well...yeah. You see...they are really great and everything...it's just that sometimes it feels like they don't understand me...and come to think of it...they don't. No one does." As he said this, he glared down at the ground, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten again.

"I know, Harry, but--what else do you expect? I mean, how many people you know have a dark wizard out to kill them?"

This was supposed to make Harry feel better; he knew it, but somehow, it didn't. "Not many," he replied. "Not many at all."

"Exactly...and it's a good thing, isn't it? Do you really want people to live the life you do?" Erika interrogated.

He shook his head. "No, of course not."

"And it's not like they don't try to understand you, right? They care about you and that should be enough. You know, you have a lot of people who care about you. You have me, Ron, Ron's family, Hermione, Dumbledore it seems...oh, and Sirius as well."

Harry shuddered and Erika saw it.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, yet again.

He wanted to shake his head, but he couldn't. He could feel Erika's protuberant eyes piercing through his mind, seeing right through him, and like many times before, he felt like he couldn't lie. He didn't want to tell her...but a part of him did. The knot seemed to travel up to his throat and he tried to swallow it back down, but that task was hard to accomplish. He had trouble breathing properly and his eyes began to burn. He turned away from Erika. He wished she would leave him alone. She continued to stare at him with apprehension and curiosity.

"Harry, please tell me. Whatever it is, I want to help. I could--"

"There's nothing you can do to help," he said, his voice shaking. "There's nothing anyone can do...He's gone...and he's never coming back."

A tear rolled down his cheek, but he immediately wiped it away with his sleeve. Erika seemed to understand that he was crying, so she looked away as to not make him feel uncomfortable.

"Who's gone?" she questioned softly.

"Sirius," he whispered.

"Oh," was all Erika said. She didn't push him with any more questions.

They both sat there, quietly, watching the afternoon turn slowly to evening. Harry let a few tears escape, but he quickly wiped them away and kept his head bent so that Erika couldn't see his tears. A few painful minutes passed and it was more than Harry could take. He was about to stand when he felt gentle arms wrap around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Harry just wanted to leave...but something inside him wanted to stay. He had longed for solitude and peace, but for some reason, peace seemed to be right here...in the arms of someone who really cared...Erika.

He set his head on her shoulder. She smelled of sweet lilies and freshly washed cotton. Her scent was soothing and refreshing. Her touch was warm and reassuring and it calmed Harry down, but he could feel the back of his neck and face growing redder by the second. Then, she breathed in his ear and spoke softly, "Not gone...just invisible." He had no idea what she meant by that, so he let the empty meaning pass.

Moments later, she pulled away from him, wiped her own face, and blushed apple-blossom pink, clearly comprehending what she had done. But soon, she ignored the odd feeling between them and dared a glance at him. When their eyes met, she spoke.

"Harry," she said, "I can't imagine how you must feel right now. I'm sorry. I wish I could imagine sometimes, just so you wouldn't feel so alone. I'm afraid to say that I've had the happiest childhood anyone could hope for. No one I know has died and no one wishes me dead...but don't rule me out because of that. You know you can still talk to me. I'll always be here for you. Always."

She gave him a watery smile and let her eyes fall back to the ground. Harry sat still and continued to stare downward. All he wanted to do at this point was drown in her words. If there were any words he wanted to hear from anyone, it would have been every word Erika had just said. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She stared up at the sky that was turning darker with time. Suddenly, a streetlamp close by came to life and blazed a golden glow over the concrete sidewalk.

"Well, it's getting late," Erika said. "I should go...but listen to me. Every word I'm about to say is true...You'll be okay, Harry. I know you will. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or in a month, but one day...you will be okay. I promise you that."

Harry smiled slightly and nodded, knowing she was right. He would be okay...one day.

Then, before Erika stood, she kissed him gently on the cheek and strolled across the lawn toward the street.

"See you around, Harry!" she shouted to him, a smile suddenly appearing on her face.

He waved. "Bye."

Harry stood up from the ground. He saw Erika open her front door and walk inside. A chilly wind picked up and swayed through the tree branches above him. After a second of silent wonder, Harry left the tree and went back to the Dursleys', not knowing that a letter from Albus Dumbledore would be waiting for him on his bed.

~

Another school year came and left and Harry found himself riding the Hogwarts Express toward King's Cross Station once again and, as far as he knew, for the last time. He would not return for his final year. Harry knew that. He had a destiny to fulfill, a job to do sent to him from Dumbledore....who had died a few days ago. Harry was miserable. Of course he was, but he had to admit--it didn't hurt as much as when Sirius died. He was used to the thought of death. They were at war now. He knew things like this were to happen.

Hermione was at his left and Ron sat across from him. Hermione was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet while Ron was soundlessly eating Chocolate Frogs. There was also a red-haired girl sitting on the right side of Ron. She was gazing out the compartment door, and by the looks of it, on purpose. This was Ginny, Ron's one and only little sister. Harry knew what she was doing. She was trying to avoid him, pretend he wasn't there.

Harry had dated her through the end of this finished term. They had had a good relationship and he liked her more than words could say. He wished they could have kept dating, but life grew complicated...or at any rate, more complicated. He broke things off with her not too long ago. There was no doubt she was upset. The thing was, she was understanding and knew that Harry meant well. She wasn't avoiding him out of anger. She was doing it out of embarrassment, or perhaps, she didn't want to spark any flames and make the break up harder than it already was. Whether or not they'd get back together, Harry didn't know. All he knew was that he would very much like to...and that he must explain this to Erika. It was one of the few happy matters that he had to discuss about, compared to what else had happened that year.

Harry saw a pair of white, frosted clouds hovering in the blue sky. His mind drifted like they did...flouting softly in the wind. He thought of Erika. He thought about what he would say to her--and the more he thought about it, the more mixed feelings he got. He wouldn't be able to describe Dumbledore's death very easily, but he'd have to. On the other hand, he would get to tell her about Ginny. She'd be thrilled to know about Ginny. But most important of all...he would have to tell about his journey--his quest for Voldemort's last Horcruxes. He tried to focus on the positive side. Ginny...I will get to tell her about Ginny...

Hours later, he arrived at Privet Dr. and set off for the tree as soon as the Dursleys had forgotten he existed. He reached the familiar tree and noted that it hadn't changed. It was just as he had remembered it...although, something was not right...Erika was not under it...

She knew he was going to be here today. Harry had written to her and told her he'd be here. He did that every summer and she would always be there waiting for him. Why wasn't she here like always?

Harry searched up in the tree, hoping she'd be in it. No seventeen-year-old girl sat up in the branches, swinging her feet back and forth. He checked around the tree, but he knew this was pointless. Why would he find her behind the tree? Hiding? Surely not. Nevertheless, no dazzling blue eyes appeared from behind the tree trunk.

Maybe she's busy somewhere and she will be late...or maybe she forgot about me. Harry's stomach hurt as this thought came to mind. Why would Erika just forget about him? This angered him. She was always there and now all of sudden, she decides she doesn't want to be his friend anymore and not show up? This wasn't like her. What happened to her?

She grew up, Harry thought.

This seemed entirely logical. She was seventeen now. She probably had a boyfriend or some girl friends she'd much rather hang around with. No doubt she was learning how to drive now and there were places she wanted to go, things she wanted to do, people she wanted to see.

If only I was one of those people, he considered gloomily.

Suddenly, something occurred to him...She wasn't your ordinary teenage girl. If she had not wanted to meet with him today, she would have at least dropped by to tell him so. Why would she just leave him there? There was one simple answer...

She wouldn't. There had to be a more reasonable explanation.

Harry decided that the best thing to do would be to go to her house and see if she was home. He went to the house where he knew Erika lived. He knocked on the door firmly. There was silence for a few seconds...footsteps from the inside...then the door opening...

A short, old man with white hair stood inside the threshold. He was balding at the top of his head. He had small, kind-looking eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses and a bushy, grey mustache under his nose. The man made a friendly smile at Harry and said, "Hello. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," Harry responded. "I was wondering...is Erika home?"

The old man's smile dropped and changed into a puzzled frown.

"Erika? I don't know any Erika, son."

Harry stared at the old man with a confused expression.

"What? But she lives here. You must know her. She's around my age and--"

"Oh, are you perhaps referring to the young teen girl who lived here with her parents?"

Harry's heart lifted. He began to breathe easier.

"Yes! May I see her? Is she in?"

The old man stopped, strangely, and looked up to the sky in reminiscence with an odd gleam in his eye. Harry continued to stare.

"Such a nice girl...She was going to apply for Oxford College and after try to get a job as a novelist or an actress...She told me...It's a shame what happened to her..."

Harry froze. What was he talking about? He didn't understand.

"What do you mean? What happened to her?"

The old man sighed and gazed at Harry with an utmost look of sadness, a look that was filled with forlornness and sympathy.

"I'm sorry, son...She passed away."

His words rang out into the afternoon air. Harry's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He stood stalk still, unable to speak, his heart beating fast beneath his rib cage. What? Erika wasn't dead...She couldn't be dead...This man was mad.

When Harry didn't say anything, the man spoke, "Look, son, I'm terribly sorry. Her family was going to move away and I bought this house off of them. She was very kind, lovely girl...She went to go for a drive with her friends to a moving away party they threw for her. Rained like hell...The roads were very slippery...The breaks threw out and...and she couldn't stop the car..."

The old man's voice faded away, or at least, in Harry's mind it did. Harry didn't want to hear anymore of this nonsense. It wasn't true...It couldn't be true. Erika was alive. She was in that house. He must talk to her, hear her voice, prove this man wrong. See her...he must see her...call to her...throw the old man out of the way if he had to.

"Were you a friend of hers? What's your name, son?"

"Harry," he answered harshly.

The man smiled. "Yes...she mentioned you. She seemed quite fond of you...Well...I'm sorry for your loss."

The old man backed up and closed the door. Harry stood there, his heart pounding. He was surprised it could still beat. It felt like it was smashed into a million tiny pieces. A knot was forming in his throat again. He needed to get away from here, go somewhere--anywhere, away from all of this...this torture...this pain.

Harry slowly turned around and began walking down the pathway back to the road. Every step seemed to take a lot of effort and it was hard to look anywhere but the ground. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys'. He headed for the tree. He felt the sun's heat diminish as he submerged beneath the shadow of the leaves. Harry climbed the tree and sat in his usual spot. He searched around him. It was the very tree she used to sit in...the place he remembered her the most...her tree...Erika's tree.

Harry's thoughts raced. Why did she leave him? Hadn't she promised him that she would always be there for him? Where was she now? Harry didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel. Another friend lost...another one gone.

"Not gone...just invisible..."

Harry didn't cry. He was tired of crying. He was sick of mourning, grieving, hurting, and wishing life was better. Harry set his face in his hands.

"I know you're tired...but you must keep fighting...we all must..."

Harry lifted his head and listened to the silence for a sign that he wasn't alone, all alone in this comfortless world where Erika left him...but the only sound made was the wind rushing through the leaves on the empty branch where Erika used to sit. The sun peeked through the leaves and cast a ray on Erika's branch. A flash of white gleamed in the corner of his eye. It was a piece of paper.

Harry reached over and grabbed it. It was folded funny, in the shape of heart with curly writing on the front that read "Harry." He unfolded it and read it. It said:

Dear Harry,

It seems that you've left early for the summer once again. I'm sorry, but I won't see you next summer. I'm moving and I don't know if I'll ever come back. We're moving to the United States! Isn't that exciting?! I wish you could come with us, but we both know that that can't happen. I begged my parents for us to stay here, but they said that our move is final so, I just have to accept it. And I have, I guess. I'm going to miss you. You should send me letters using Hedwig, though. I'll give you our address the moment I know what it is. But...

...Harry, there's so much I didn't get to tell you. I didn't know quite how to put this, but then, I heard this song and I thought it matched perfectly with what I wanted to say. It goes like this:

I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you want to go,
And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walking till you find the window.
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,

But more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too.
Yeah, this is my wish.

I hope you never look back, but you never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And always give more than you take.

But more than anything, yeah, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too.
Yeah, this is my wish.

This is my wish.
I hope you know somebody loves you.
May all your dreams stay big.

And I really mean that too...no matter how corny it sounds.

Harry smiled at this and then continued...

I want you to know that no matter where you go or what you do, I'm proud of you. You have been a real friend to me and I could do nothing but be the same for you in return. I was always on your side. I always forgave you when you did something stupid and I never doubted you, or at least not completely. I never thought that there was something you could not do if you put your mind to it. No matter what Snape, or Malfoy, or Voldemort says to you, you are talented and I have total faith in you. You're a great wizard and man and whatever you decide to do with your life, know that I am with you in spirit. The ones who love us never really leave us, you know. Remember that. I may be all the way in America, but I'm still thinking of you.

I'll never forget you.

Love,

Erika

Harry didn't reread the letter. That one time was all it took, for he understood every word. Harry folded the paper up and held it tight in his hand. He never wanted to let it go. It was as if Erika never left the earth; she was still there, wrapped up in that little piece of paper in his fist.

Suddenly, he could see her, feel her presence there in the tree with him. Harry could see her sitting on the branch across from him like old times. Her eyes sparkled with eagerness and her hair was as smooth as silk. She tucked a loose strand of it behind her ear. Harry smiled.

"You were here the whole time, weren't you?" Harry asked out loud.

"Of course I was," Erika responded.

"You didn't leave me."

"You know I wouldn't," she said and she beamed with her eyes all aglow. "I'd miss you too much."

Harry grinned, and this time, a real one--the first real grin in days.

"I'm in love, have you heard?"

"No, and you waited to tell me?! Harry, you know me better than that! Who is she?" she said in her own fantastic, comical way.

"Her name's Ginny. She's wonderful. You'd really like her."

"You mean Ron's sister? What does he think?"

"Ron's okay with it, I suppose. If I know Ginny, she'd probably hex Ron if he wasn't okay with it." Harry laughed to himself. "Though, she can be sweet when she wants to be..."

His thoughts trailed off and he found his mind wandering to other places, other places where he knew a red-haired, freckled girl who called herself Ginny would be exploring. He beamed. What was wrong with him? Hadn't he been sad two minutes ago?

He looked at the imaginary Erika who smiled sweetly and whispered, "She sounds lovely...Take good care of her."

Harry nodded. Then he pressed on with the next thing he knew he had to say.

"I won't return to Privet Drive, Erika...I have a job to do."

"I suspect you do."

"I'd like to tell you about it, but I can't."

"I understand."

"Erika...you were such a good friend to me. I wish I had gotten the chance to tell you that. I will miss you...I already do."

"I know. I miss you too."

Harry stared out into the distance. Night was falling once again.

"I should go now."

Erika nodded. "I wish you the best of luck then."

Harry gazed at her empty spot, as if she was really there. He gave the tree one last smile and jumped down from the branch as gracefully as he could. He began to walk away...until...he could have sworn he heard her voice call to him as clear as rain...

"Harry...I love you."

Harry turned back to the tree, hoping against all hope that she had dropped down from the tree too and began sprinting after him, but no blue-eyed, brown-haired girl with her face lit up came running up beside him. He turned his back on the tree and began walking toward the sunlight to the Dursleys', knowing that whatever happened, Erika would be there, just like she promised.

"I'll always be here for you," she whispered sweetly in his ear.

"Always."

The End.