And I'm. . . (in Isolation)

I'm sitting here on the settee, positioned to face the window. I'm sitting here, and I'm flying there, and I'm outside where I'm supposed to be. I'm at my job, and I'm trick or treating with Harry for Halloween, like I should be. I'm at Hogwarts, and I'm getting mail.

And I blink.

And I'm sitting here.

And I'm watching the kids pass outside, their eyes jumping over our house, never seeing, never knowing. They're out there, laughing, and I can't stand it. They're out there, not knowing that this world is horrible and evil. And I can't stand it as they laugh so innocently. Wasn't I innocent too?

It's only been a few years now since graduation. I still remember going to classes, laughing so innocently you wouldn't believe. I still remember when James commented on my red hair being the most beautiful thing he ever had seen. I still remember the way my heart fluttered up.

I still remember my best friend chuckling as I finally admitted, that yes, he was more down to earth than before. That yes, he was cute. That I yeah, sort of liked him like a friend and oh well, maybe it could be something more but you never really know, and do you really think he likes me and well, you're sure, well then, yeah, I guess I like him too, because he's cute and nice and oh my god, I'm totally in love, aren't I?

I still remember her disbelief that I had said all that in one breath.

I still remember Dumbledore asking if we would join. He told us we didn't have to join. He said it was a huge decision, all or nothing. There was no second guessing it later on. I still remember looking around his office. I still remember sitting there with the most trustworthy of my year. I still remember making eye contact with each other, before we all nodded sharply in agreement.

I still remember facing off with Voldemort for the first time. I still remember fear. I still remember the intense hatred that seemed to surround him and his followers.

And I'm sitting here.

And I'm at a funeral. And I'm thinking of death, way too frequently considering my youth.

And I hear a laugh from a trick-or-treater.

And I'm sitting here.

And I'm wondering what on earth I'm doing here. I should be at home with my parents, I'm that young. But they're dead. So I should be at my job. Or, I should even be at an Order meeting, saving the world one mission at a time.

And I'm okay with the missions. I have those moments of childhood nostalgia, but I bounce back, because this is a war. And my parents are dead. And they killed them. And I'm in a world at war. And we're dying every day. And, if facing off with Voldemort has taught me anything, it is that evil is very, very real. And I'm the type of person to fight against it. I wish I wasn't. I wish there was no war. But there is, and I am.

And I can't do anything here! I can't even fight anymore. And I'm sitting here in this hidden house like a coward, while all of my friends are out there fighting. They're fighting, and I'm hiding, and I can't stand it! And I'm just sitting here, while they die.

And I can't help but wonder: what am I doing anymore? Why am I here? Why aren't I out there? Why am I not fighting? Why am I not doing something?

And I'm just sitting here.

But, I hear a noise from the stairwell. James comes down, and I see Harry next to him. And Harry's face breaks into a grin that only a baby can execute properly. And he babbles. James comes in and starts saying who knows what, as he comes up and kisses me on the forehead.

And a trick-or-treater laughs. Never seeing. Never knowing.

And I envy the trick-or-treaters, but I know that I'm not one of them. I know the horrors of the world. And I know I have to fight.

And I see my eyes in Harry's, and the love we share in James' face. And I know what this means to the world, that our isolation means just as much as the missions. And I'm sitting here. And I know that this is what I'm meant to be doing.

Because I'm young, and I should be with my family. So I am. And, in a twisted way, we are doing our part for the war too. And if we're not on missions, that's okay. Harry's destined for greatness, and we're going to lead him there.

And James puts Harry to bed. And I'm standing up, nostalgia over, as a surge of magic passes through us. And James is looking out the window. And he's shouting for me to run. And I'm telling him I love him. And I'm running upstairs to get Harry. And I hear maniacal laughter and a thump of a body. My heart sinks, and I'm standing here. And James isn't.

And I'm not able to apparate, because He must've set up wards. So, I'm standing here with my wand guarding my child, knowing it is useless. And I'm wishing that I knew another means to escape. But He warded against everything. And I'm here. And Harry's here. And Voldemort is here.

And he's telling me I can leave. And my brain is running so fast. There has to be a way to get out. And then I realize what he said. I can leave. And in my mind, I'm gasping in shock. And I'm wondering why.

And I tell him no. I may have wondered what I was doing here earlier. But, with Harry behind me, and Voldemort in front of me, I remember. If I was someone else, I might leave. But I'm not someone else. I'm me, and I'm not about to walk away.

But, Harry's going to die anyway, because Voldemort is here. And no one survives against him.

And, the clock ticks in the background, and Harry cries quietly. And I know we did the right thing hiding. Because, prophecy or not, fate and destiny aside, Harry is our child, and we had to try. If I walked away now, I'd be able to help the war again, but I can't walk away. I'd never be able to live with myself.

And I'm here, and I know it's over. It's all over. And I lose my dignity and I beg for Harry's life.

And he's not listening to my pleas. And I have another chance to leave. And another.

But, I can't walk away. Harry's my child, and I won't be the mother who walked away. I can't be. I won't be.

And I'm still here, and I don't leave.