Someone Like Me

"Harry?" Kenzie asked again. "Harry? Ron? Hermione? Ginny? Somebody?"

"It's me," came the reply.

"Harry?" she asked once again, sitting up and reaching out into the darkness. Her hand collided with cold glass, and a small crunch was heard.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so, so sorry! I've broken them, haven't I?"

"Its fine, I'll get Mrs. Weasley to fix them in the morning. Come down to the kitchen with me," he said.

"Alright..." Kenzie answered hesitantly. Harry stood up and went over to the door, opening it just wide enough to fit through the crack. She reluctantly followed.

"Harry?" Kenzie called into the darkness of the hallway.

"Over here," Harry answered, taking hold of her elbow.

"There you are!" she answered, relieved, tucking her arm through Harry's. He skillfully led the way down the familiar stairs and hallways to the kitchen.

Once the pair arrived in the kitchen, they discovered a fire still cheerfully crackling in the fireplace. Harry went and sat down at the long table, facing the fireplace. Kenzie automatically began to make tea. After filling up the kettle and carefully hanging it above the flames in the fireplace, she went over and sat down across from Harry. He ran a hand through his hair tiredly.

"You look exhausted," she observed.

"I am," Harry agreed, smiling feebly.

Kenzie noticed a small crack running down the center of one of his lenses in his glasses. "Sorry about that," she said guiltily, pointing toward his cracked glasses.

"Don't worry, it's no big deal," Harry assured her, grinning.

"Thanks. So, what's this about?" she asked gently.

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come down and make myself a cup of tea. But then when I got down here, I couldn't bear to be alone; all I could think about was Sirius. I needed someone to talk to, and the first person I thought of was you. I hope you don't mind. You can go back to bed if you want."

"Of course I don't mind," Kenzie assured him. The tea kettle began whistling, and she went over to the fireplace and took it out of the fire. She carefully poured it into two teacups then carried the cups and a bowl of sugar over to the table. "Do you take anything else in your tea? Would you like me to get you anything?" she offered, spooning sugar into the steaming cup of tea before her.

"No, thanks," Harry replied. He began dumping large spoonfuls of sugar into his own tea. Kenzie stirred her tea pensively for a moment while carefully studying Harry's face, her head cocked slightly to the left. She finally dropped her gaze and began sipping her tea. Harry couldn't help but notice how her smooth, fair skin and glossy red hair both seemed to glow in the soft firelight.

"What?" she asked self-consciously. "What is it?"

"It's only that I know so little about you," he replied somewhat reluctantly.

"Well," Kenzie replied, sitting her cup back down, "my full name is Mackenzie Louise Townsen. I'm 14 years old, but I'll be 15 on July 20th. I'm the shortest person in my year, and I hate it. My hair is naturally this color, and I hated it when I was younger. My eyes are always green, like my dad's were and my grandmother's are. I hate my freckles, my eyelashes don't curl, I can't hold a nail polish brush steady, so I never paint my fingernails, I always have to present my opinion or I'll explode, I drop everything and then trip over it, and I don't have any friends at school. What else would you like to know?"

Harry laughed. "Well, that covered all the basics didn't it?"

Kenzie laughed, too. "Yes, I supposed it did."

"What else do you want to tell me?" Harry asked.

"Oh, please don't start playing this game! I hate it when people dance around the point to be polite. Just ask me!" Kenzie protested impatiently.

"You know what? You're right. I hate it when people do that, too. Would you mind telling me about your parents? What were they like? What... happened?" Harry asked, his voice fading off toward the end of his sentence.

Clearly, this was not the question Kenzie had been expecting. The happy look in her eyes clouded over, and when that same strand of hair fell into her eyes, she forgot to push it away. "Oh, that," she said sadly.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Harry said quickly.

"No, no, it's alright. Really, I want to talk about it. And you're the best person in the world I can think of to talk to about it. You'll really understand," she said, looking up at Harry as she finished her sentence. He noticed an almost pleading look in her eyes, as though she couldn't wait to get her feelings out. Impulsively, he reached across the table and took hold of her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Kenzie smiled gratefully and continued. "My parents' names were Suzanne and Oliver Townsen. I don't remember much about them. I was only a few months old when they died. Some of my earliest memorizes are of my mother looking over into my crib at me, or my father playing with me, or" - Kenzie stopped and swallowed sadly - "the night the Ministry wizard came to tell Grandmother they had been killed. She says there's no way I actually remember those things, but I swear I do."

"I remember stuff about my parents, too," Harry said solemnly. "Not much, but bits here and there."

Kenzie nodded in agreement before continuing. "My mum worked for the Department of Mysteries. That's where she was when she was killed. She was working late one night, the twentieth of October to be exact, when You-Know-Who somehow infiltrated the Ministry. He came down and tried to convince her to join him, but she wouldn't. The Ministry wizard who came to tell us of her death even said they found evidence of her trying to curse him. When she wouldn't join, he tortured her. Finally, someone working a few rooms over heard her screaming and called for help before going to find her. My dad was an Auror, and he was working a few floors up. He heard the wizard's call for help and Apparated down there. About seven people ran into the room where they were. They broke You-Know-Who's concentration, and when he wasn't concentration on her anymore the spell ended. While You-Know-Who was busy battling the others, my dad yelled at her to go, to come back to Grandmother's house where I was and to hide. She started to run. Meanwhile, You-Know-Who had already killed all the other wizards. He saw my mother running and tried to kill her. My father jumped in front of her, and he died instead. Then You-Know-Who got my mother with another spell. They died side-by-side. That's how they found them, holding hands and everything. A Ministry wizard came and told Grandmother the next morning after all the bodies were discovered. Then he gave her two boxes with silver medals in them that said, "Order of Merlin, Second Class," and that was all there was. They were just gone," Kenzie finished, tears in her eyes.

Harry once again squeezed her hand gently. "They died heroes, then," he said quietly, hoping to comfort her.

"Yes, they did," Kenzie said proudly.

"What happened after that?" he asked gently.

"I stayed with Grandmother until I was two years old, and then I went to America to live with my Aunt Nancy. I lived with her and her husband and my four cousins until I was old enough to come to Hogwarts. They were always good to me, but I was the oldest, and I always had to watch out for the other four. I never fit in America. There, even magical children have to go to Muggle school before wizarding school, and the other children always teased me. I had learned to talk in small sentences before I ever came to America, and we still went back every summer, so I had a faint accent. The other children teased me for it. Even then they could tell I wasn't like everyone else. I, of course, knew I'd grow up to be a witch, but nobody else could know that. When it came time for me to go to school, I didn't want to go to Belington Academy, the American wizarding school. I wanted to go to Hogwarts. So, when I got my letter for Hogwarts, I begged my aunt and Grandmother to let me go and live with Grandmother on breaks. Finally, they agreed, and here I am. I'm happier now then I've ever been, though I still can't say I have many friends. I think it's because of the War. Anyone associated with You-Know-Who...." Kenzie finished, letting her sentence trial off. She knew Harry knew exactly where she was coming from, and he did.

"I completely understand," he answered.

"I knew you would. It must be even worse for you than it is for me. You're Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived," she replied.

"Don't remind me," Harry said fiercely, dropping Kenzie's hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Me and my big mouth, always getting me into trouble and hurting people's feelings!" Kenzie said quickly, looking truly distressed.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just get so sick of being 'The Boy Who Lived.' Everyone always expects me to save everything and do everything, and I just get so sick of it all! I would give anything to just be a normal boy who never miraculously survived anything and had parents to go home to."

"I understand," Kenzie agreed. Her simple statement was followed by an awkward silence.

"So, erm, do you know why Voldemort came after your mother?" he asked finally.

He was impressed to see that Kenzie did not flinch as he said "Voldemort." Instead, her eyes clouded over again, her forehead furrowed, and she said, "That's the strange part. There were plenty of people working in the Ministry that night. There were far more powerful and important people who would have been more likely to join and would have been a greater asset to You-Know-Who than Mum would have been. She was rather high-ranking in her department, but even still. No one can figure out why he went after her of all people, they just know he did. What about you? Do you know why You-Know-Who was after your parents?"

He wasn't, Harry thought bitterly. He was after me. But Harry had still not even told Ron and Hermione about the prophecy, and he didn't want to tell anyone before them. He longed to tell Kenzie now, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he answered, "No." He hated himself for lying.

Unaware of the truth, Kenzie nodded. "Its funny how one man can kill so many people so close together with little evidence of why he did it. He killed my parents and seven others on the twentieth of October and your parents on October 31. That's not even two weeks apart. It's not fair! I was three months old to the day when my parents died. I only got three months with them. I barely remember them at all, and I'm not even sure if the memories I have are real. And you were only a year and three months to the day when your parents were killed. That's odd isn't it? You were a year and three months old when your parents were killed, and I was three months old when mine were," Kenzie mused.

"That is rather odd," Harry agreed. Another awkward silence followed. By this point, Harry was quite tired of such morbid conversation, and he could tell by the sad look which had rested on Kenzie's features that she was, too. He racked his brain for a lighter topic of conversation. He was starting to feel silly for bringing her down here in the first place. Finally, he hit upon another topic.

"So, you said you liked Quidditch. Who do you support?" he asked.

Kenzie's face instantly brightened. "I'm for the Nottingham Knights all the way!" she replied enthusiastically.

"How dare you?!" Harry said, looking at her in disgust. "They're terrible!"

Kenzie sat open-mouthed in shock, but Harry could have sworn he saw a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "How dare you?!" she countered. "They are not terrible!"

"They are!" Harry insisted, laughing. "They haven't won a match all season. They didn't win a match all last season, for that matter! Gregory Newman, their best player, even quit this year! See, even the team knows how bad they are!"

"He did not quit!" Kenzie said, laughing in spite of herself. "He's taking a break!"

"Oh, please! He's 'taking a break' at Woodland Hill International's training camp is what he's doing!"

"He is not!" Kenzie protested, laughing hard because she knew it was true.

"He is!" Harry insisted.

"He is not!"

"He is!"

"Not!"

"Is!"

The conversation continued in this light manner for quite some time. The topics of conversations ranged to which teams where their favorites, to which teams they agreed were good, which teams they agreed were bad, which teams had the best players of each position, and so forth until both Harry and Kenzie lost track of how long they had been talking.

The next morning, Mrs. Weasley bustled into the kitchen early to begin making breakfast and found both Harry and Kenzie asleep at the table with their heads on their arms as though they had both fallen asleep unexpectedly. Kenzie's hand was resting on Harry's upturned palm, and his thumb was lying gently on the top of her hand as though he had fallen asleep while stroking it. Mrs. Weasley stood for a moment, reluctant to wake them up, smiling over the scene, and thinking, Ah, young love.