I started asking why my parents got married when I was five. In my eyes, they were as different as the sun and moon. My father was the sun. He practically glowed in my eyes. From the way, his eyes looked when he had a new idea to the way his face glowed when he smiled. His laughter was contagious and things seemed lighter when he was home. He also had a temper that reminded me of the sun’s rays. His job didn’t help the matter since he is an Auror, which is dangerous like the sun can be.
My mother is the polar opposite. She could be a mystery, as the dark side of the moon. She also was always there, even when you can’t see her. She could be cold, especially when she was mad. Despite that, you can’t help but look at her in awe. She is beautiful and can be joyful, too. She is smart and analytical. At that age, I decided that their hair color was the reason they married. My five-year-old logic had been that the moon can’t have red hair and the sun can’t have black hair. So they matched through hair. I was about seven when they told me why.
My brother had been teasing me about why I was born. He said it was because our sister, Jasmine, is sick. I denied it and ran to my parents. I say it is because I am a skeptic, Charlus said I was sobbing and wanted them to punish him.
That is when I found out that mum had Jasmine right out of Hogwarts when she was seventeen to be exact.
“I wanted to be a professor at Hogwarts, but then we found out about your sister.” She said. Dad nodded, and I asked them to tell me more. They had Charlus at nineteen and me at twenty. Sadly, I ended up getting an abridged version of the birds and the bees talk, which was gross. They did; however, get into what my brother was saying.
“We already created you when she got sick.” Dad said, pulling me onto his lap. Mum nodded, running her hand down my back as she tried to calm me down.
“The healers only checked your core to make sure it would be compatible.” Mum added. I recall being scared that they only wanted me to have spare parts for her. I still think this before we head to the hospital.
“We love you even more because we knew who we were getting.” My mother was quick to tell me. My father agreed while messing up my hair. Their words didn’t help me. They led to more questions than I wanted to ask. Such as, if she wasn’t sick would they have kept me?, she is the Girl-Who-Lived. The next question being, if they decided not to keep me, would life be like it is now?
I never went to Diagon Alley alone, though this would be an exception. There weren’t many branches of Gringotts around Britain, well the United Kingdom had maybe five total, and Diagon Alley was my only option. There is a reason I refused to go though. One is that with my sister always being in St Mungo’s, I always had someone with me. The other is that the Alley was always busy.
With shops overflowing with people and everyone going from shop to shop, it is easy to get swept away in the crowds. I had to dodge people left and right as I walked down the long pathway. In times like this, I loved not being noticed. Even when I knew that if my sister were here, that wouldn’t be the case. People not looking at me doesn’t bother me. It is when I feel as though my parents are like those random faces in the crowd-that is a bit off-topic. The bank was at the end of the alley, which is where I needed to be. Through some careful steps, I made it without being stepped on. The fact no one stopped me for not having an adult said more about our society than it said about me.
When I got to the giant doors, I paid little attention to the inscription. On my first trip here, my dad read it to me. He said it was a warning and at three that was scary. So he held me as we walked into the large building. I went into the building and went straight to the goblin that handled our vaults.
“I would like to enter my vault.” I said, handing my key over. The goblin didn’t glance down at me, nor did he give any inclination that he cared. Instead, I headed to the cart that would take me to my family's vault. The more I contemplate it, the more it made me feel weird. The vault is for our family, but we were the only ones that may use it. My uncle Sirius had no access to it, nor did my uncle Remus. If they didn’t keep me, would I have access to it? Probably not, still, I would rather be with them than with my cousin Narcissa and her son. My other option would be my Uncle Sirius, who lived with his long-term girlfriend Marlene. My uncle Remus lived with us since Jasmine got sick. So, he wasn’t an option.
“We are here.” The goblin said, taking me out of my thoughts. I quickly took a handful of silver and gold coins before hopping back into the cart. If I thought too much about it, then I wouldn’t have enough nerve to go through with it. What would happen if things changed? I am not meant to be normal. Jasmine had not been born for normal. Charlus, well he could have been if he had been born first. My parents tried to give us normal, they really did. However, with Jasmine, well, that is impossible.
The doctors don’t know what is wrong with her. They told us that there is a mass on her core. The healers can’t remove it though, something about not being able to safely. Mum asked if it was a tumor and pointed out that her symptoms had nothing to do with her core.
“Her walking is still off. I think there may be a connection.” Mum explained to us when we asked why Jasmine wasn’t getting better. Dad said no muggle ailments can affect her. So mum’s theory of it being a tumor went out the door. At the muggle school’s that my siblings had to go to, the one I am going to, mum said she has this tumor on her spinal cord. Which at least matched her symptoms, or so my mum said. I am not so sure. Maybe the Dark Lord did something. Her magical core isn’t creating magic when she uses it. Which is where I come in because I am her donor. When her core gets too low, I am getting a needle in my back. When her symptoms get worse, I am telling my teachers that I will be out for a few days. I am literally recharging her core with my magic. In theory, her core will learn how to generate its own magic. At least that is what the healers are saying. All I truly know for a fact is that I end up in the hospital when she does. I also stay longer than her.
Don’t feel bad for me. I am not asking for your pity. All I am trying to do is tell you not to believe what you hear about me. Especially when it is from me.
I was working on my summer homework. Since I missed a bit during the year, there is a lot of it. As I finished the math section I heard the sounds of heals on the hardwood in the room. I looked up from my spot in the library and noticed it was only my mum.
She was in her formal robes, which meant that she was going out. The way her skirt clung to her thin waist and how her hair was curled reminded me that she could be beautiful. The way her wavy red hair framed her heart-shaped face and her green eyes lit up, well it is easy to say she is gorgeous. At least, she could have been if she hadn't been a part of our lives.
“There you are. How is homework going?” She asked, her voice sounded off. I could clearly see the dark circles forming under her eyes. I briefly wondered if Jasmine was sick again. However, the thought quickly left my head. She would have led with that if she was.
“It’s going good. What’s up, mum?” I asked, closing my folder. She walked over to the table I was sitting at and pulled a chair out. She looked over my papers and I swore I could see a smile form as she read over my answers.
“I wanted to know if you were interested in going to London with us? I know you were in need of some new shoes and Jasmine-” She started, but something seemed to catch her attention. I thought she was trying to remember what she came up here for, until she looked back at me.
“Did you hear that?” She asked, and I shook my head no. Though I knew what she thought the noise was.
“Jasmine.” She said, rushing to the stairs. It didn’t matter if I, or anyone really, said anything about her. With Jasmine, only mum is right. The two of us made it down to the living room where Jasmine laid sobbing on the couch. My mom instantly sat next to her, rubbing her back.
“Honey, what hurts?” She asked her. My sister continued to cry, and I waited. Waited on being told to call my dad, Dumbledore or even Madame Pomfrey. Mum got into her face, her own looking distraught.
“What hurts?” She asked, and my sister sniffled, it was then that I noticed the book on the floor.
“This is the last book. I read the entire series.” She cried. Mum didn’t seem to believe her, but I wanted to laugh. This was normal, and for my family, it was like a breath of fresh air.
“The next book should come out soon.” I said, making her smile. I know the book, she asked me to read it to her when she was in remission last year. Since she was so out of it at the time, it made sense to me why she would reread it on her own. Mom left soon enough, and I sat on the floor since she was lying on the couch.
“What was this one about?” I was only asking to see if she was actually in pain. She would lie sometimes to mum about what hurt. She hated the hospital as much as I did.
“The main character left on an adventure with their friends. What else does it have to be?” she asked, smiling softly. I rolled my eyes and looked up at her, now noticing the pained look on her face.
“What hurts?” I asked. She shook her head, wincing again. It was starting again.
“Do you want me to get mum?” I asked. She shook her head, reaching for my hand. I grabbed onto it, holding on for dear life.
“Not yet.” She said, her voice falling slightly. This pain was bad. I could tell from her expression alone. I wait on the floor for her to fall asleep. The potions she takes daily do that to her, again since they don’t know what was wrong with her, to begin with. Once she was asleep, I went back upstairs to my shared room. My brother was out, probably in the attic, so I could grab my sack of coins I had been slowly saving up. From odd chores around the house, birthday and whatever my uncle would give me when I asked. It wasn’t enough, but with the bank trip, I was at about 300 gallons, which wasn’t as much as it sounded. Still, maybe my aunt Andi would give me a discount. Since I am family that is.
After I grabbed my coins, I climbed up to the attic, hoping over the clothes on the floor. I sometimes swear that he does this on purpose. He is the only one that goes up there. Mum refuses since it smelled, and dad doesn’t like to climb all the stairs. They only let him stay up there because he and I used to fight when we were younger. I also suspect that they felt bad about missing his football games when he was younger. Regardless of the reason he was up there, it still took a while for me to get up there. When I got to his door, I knocked on the side of the door frame.
"Go away." He called back to me. I sighed as I kicked the frame. At least he was home. During the summer he liked to stay away. Jasmine has her treatments during the summer if she didn’t have an incident within the past six months. Which made mum unbearable sometimes.
"Can I come in?" I asked. There was no response until he answered the door. His swollen eyes are visible in the dark, and from what I could tell, they were a little red. Which meant he had been out.
“What do you want?” He asked, his voice quiet. I sighed and gave him a look. When he didn’t get the message I bit my lip and glanced around.
“I need some help.” I admit, not knowing how to bring it up. There was very little I had to say for him to summon the knight bus for me. What was a couple of chores more? Especially since what was about to happen to Jasmine if she got worse.
The ride itself didn’t take long, though walking up those stairs felt as though I was walking to my doom. Still, I knock on the door. Pouch of money in my pocket. The doors opened, revealing a pink-haired girl. She had a smile on her lips when she saw me.
“Wotcher Harry?” She said I smiled brightly as she let me in.
“Wotcher Tonks?” I asked. She ruffled my hair, leading me into the den. Their house was much more alive than mine ever would be. There were socks folding themselves on the sofa and a pot washing in the sink. In the middle of the room was my Aunt Andie.
“Mum, Harry is here.” She declared. Auntie Andie looked over with a shocked look on her face. I forgot that I hadn’t called ahead of time, though she would have asked why I didn’t just come with my parents. She still would ask, unless I explain what happened first.
“Harry, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here to our neck of the woods?” She asked, straightening out her skirt. I noticed that her apron had a few stains and her hair was messy. It was so unlike her sister’s hair. My aunt Andromeda isn't actually my aunt. She is my uncle Sirius's cousin, but since Sirius is my godfather, she isn't actually related to us. Regardless, she is my auntie for simplicity.
“I need your help.” I admit, playing with the sleeves of my jacket. She gave me a confused expression before looking around the room.
“Do you want to meet in my study?” She asked. I nodded, not looking at her in the eye. My aunt leads me up the stairs into a small room with a desk. I take one side and she takes the other. We both sit in silence before I spoke up.
“As you know, my sister isn’t getting any better.” I said, my voice isn’t steady at all. I could already visualize the sympathetic expression on her face, though she doesn’t respond.
“I need you to act as my witness in court. I need you to help me sue my parents for the right to my body.”