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I knew he was special—different. How could he not be? It always amazed me how he could live such a brute and not turn out becoming one too. How could they really be related, honestly? That Dudley Dursley was nothing more than a bumbling bully! Always scaring people into letting him have his way. But He…He is different. I could tell the second I met him. We were destined to meet, of course. At least that was how I felt. Even if he doesn’t notice me. There was a fluttering in my heart and butterflies in my tummy that told me so.
He was always so lonely though. Always by himself. Sometimes I would wish I were brave enough to talk to him. Sometimes I would wish I had been his friend. But I was too scared. Not like him. He was always so brave, standing up to that overgrown pig like that. One couldn’t help but cheer when he escaped from Dursley and his gang. No one liked them. Everyone was just too afraid to befriend their favorite target.
I told myself that when we got to secondary school, I would talk to him. His cousin wouldn’t be there anymore, after all. It would be my chance. It would be his chance. I knew, just knew, that if he was given the opportunity, he could become one of those people, the type that always had people around him. I wanted to be one of the ones around him.
But it never happened. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t there the first day. Or the first week. Or the first month.
I was worried. He does, after all, live with a thug. What if something happened to him? What if that bully had hurt him so badly he needed help and that aunt and uncle of his weren’t doing anything about it? When I tried to talk to my parents, though, they told me not to get involved, especially with him. He was bad news, they told me. I couldn’t understand.
It was only a little later that I found out why. They sent him to another school. Some school for the young criminally minded. Really now! The only person who should be going to that school is that cousin of his! Dursley was the bully! Dursley was the one going around punching people. Dursley was the one they should be sending to some school for the “criminally minded.” Not Him. Never him.
But my parents didn’t know him as I did. They didn’t see the sweet boy I saw.
I guess no one did. I guess no one really cared, either.
Sometimes I would remember him and hope that he is alive and well somewhere. In these six years, I’ve mostly gotten over him. I’ve moved on, now in high school. But I never did forget my first crush. And I still sometimes wonder how he is. If he has made any new friends. If he is still the same sweet boy. If he fit in with the rest of the students at his other school.
“Honey, stop daydreaming! Let’s go or we’ll miss the train!”
“Coming, Mum!”
I really don’t know why I suddenly thought of him now. I haven’t thought about him in a while. It has been six years.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot an unusual gathering of people. Twins wearing something atrociously scaly and green with flaming red hair. A girl with outrageously pink hair. A man looking way worse for wear with tattered clothes and graying hair. Another man with almost wild hair, a walking stick of sorts, an overly large cloak, and a bowler that covered half his face. It was an odd sight, to say the least, and an even odder gathering. The age of each individual seemed to range from late teens to late fifties, maybe even sixties. All gathered around one particular column between platforms nine and ten.
“Abby!”
“Yes, Mum!”
Then I saw them. Well, really, you couldn’t miss them. Not with Dudley there, much larger than I previously thought possible, even for him. I had to gape a bit.
“Abby!”
“Alright, alright!”
Mother was speaking to one of the station masters. Really, I didn’t see why I had to stand next to her for that. I wasn’t a child anymore.
My thoughts ran back to Dudley and the Dursleys. Did that mean He would be there as well? I wonder what he would look like now…
“Are you threatening me, sir?”
A great bellow seemed to fill the surrounding area. Quite a few pair of eyes turned in the direction of a stout man with little to no visible neck.
“And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?”
I turned despite myself. The man with the bowler had his hat tilted slightly revealing more of a scar-marked face; but I couldn’t really see it clearly. The stout man, Mr. Dursley I realized, stumbled into a luggage trolley and I couldn’t help but wince. It must hurt. But with the man out of the way, I saw him. He looked a bit tattered, weary, and tired. But there was no mistaking it. The black hair that grew every which way. The glasses. And the slight hint of a scar on his forehead that I knew would be in the shape of a lightning bolt, even if I couldn’t see it at the moment.
I could only just make out what some of the others, whom were quickly gathering around him, were saying.
“So Potter…give us a shout if you need us. If we don’t hear from you for three days in a row, we’ll send someone along….’Bye then Potter.”
The man with the bowler gave him a pat. And another man said something to him I couldn’t quite hear. A plump woman with hair the same shade as the twins gave him a great hug.
“We’ll see you soon, mate.”
A tall, lanky boy with fiery red hair shook his hand. A brother of all the others’ with red hair, I guess.
“Really soon, Harry. We promise.”
He nodded, smiled, and waved. Then turned and took great strides out, leading the cowering Dursleys behind him.
“Let’s go, Dear. The train is this way.”
“Alright, Mum.” I whisper the words quietly. He was alright after all. I knew he would be.