Laughter

For a moment here, I feel as though I've gone back to my thirteenth year. I remember Remus (strange, as in death I remember him as Remus, and back then, he was the respected Professor Lupin) on our very first Defence against the Dark Arts class in third year, and I remember his lesson about the boggart.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter."

I didn't get my chance with the boggart on that first lesson, but every next time when we practised on it, it always won. It always managed to wriggle into my mind, penetrate all of my inner will and mental shields and find out what I feared the most, and that was always the fear of failure...

Up to this day, Riddikulus still remains one of the only two spells ever  to cause me trouble casting it, the other one being Expecto Patronum. I really don't know where lies the crux of that problem, but even though I've had no trouble mastering far more difficult spells and enchantments by the time I was fifteen, I still lack the neccesary mind force in the moment of panic. *eyeroll*

To my parents, for so rudely altering their memories and sending them off to Australia without any warning about the different climate. And yes, also for the part about me being in mortal danger and pushing them out of it without even asking for permission. I never got around to apologize to them for that. Not once in twenty years. So yes, sorry Mum, sorry Dad.

Also, an apology goes to Draco Malfoy for that slap, punch, whatever it was that briefly disfigured his face in third year. Just to be clear on the subject, the apology would go like this – “Draco, I’m so very, very sorry for that slap. It should have been much stronger, and it should have left a permanent red hand print across your cheek, which I would have taken care of – making sure that it would stay there for the next thirty years or so, simply because you’re a git and deserve the humiliation. Take care, now.”

And finally, I’ve got an apology for Ron – “Ron, sorry I ever doubted your Muggle driving skills. I now know for fact that you can’t drive. At least not without tinkering with the car, adding a bit of magic here and there and putting Sensory charms so that you’d be able to park without causing any major traffic accident. Sorry, darling.”

Hey little train, we’re all jumping on, the train that goes to the Kingdom; we're happy, Ma, we're having fun, and the train ain't even left the station…

Hey, little train! Wait for me! I once was blind but now I see… Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?

It’s weird that I should choose this song over the many hit singles of the Weird Sisters, but this one still holds a very special meaning for me.

It was right after Ron left, and I was listening to the WWN, and must have accidentally stumbled upon a Muggle frequency, and there it was. This song. And I knew that I’d heard it before, but then there was Harry before me, hand extended, and he took off the Horcrux off my neck, and we were dancing, and I was crying on Harry’s shoulder, and it didn’t really matter where I’d heard it, because the song was a small ray of sunlight that shone upon us in the battered, old tent that had once belonged to Perkins, a colleague of Arthur Weasley, and we grabbed it eagerly…

O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice…

Children, rejoice, rejoice…

Topic ||| #385
Muse ||| Hermione Granger Weasley
Fandom ||| Harry Potter
Word count ||| 204

What is it you like about yourself?

Well, I suppose that it would be extreme modesty, bordering on the edge of hypocrisy, even, to say that I don’t like my brain, especially if taken Harry and Ron’s everyday comments along the lines of “You’re brilliant, Hermione!” in consideration. In fact, my brain is one of the two things about me that I truly appreciate, and for many reasons.

 For instance, I was always able to remember any spell in any moment of terror we’ve endured the past years (although I always needed Harry to snap me out of the panic attacks for my brain to actually remember what it was supposed to be doing). And it’s not like I didn’t get my share of Outstanding marks at both the OWLs and NEWTs (5^th year ‘E’ at DADA excluded. That’s a shameful moment in my past. Period.). So yes, my brain qualifies as the first thing I’m always thankful for having.

The other thing, curiously enough, is my hair. Yes, a shocker, I know, especially if taken my past with the Sleekeazy potion and countless complaints against its bushiness, but the truth is, deep down in my heart, I love my hair. I didn’t find that out until we went on our quest – Harry, Ron and me. But every night, when both Ron and Harry were fast asleep, their snoring resonating through the tent, I used to twirl strands of my hair between my fingers, remembering my mother doing the same to me. It was the one comforting thing that got me through the year. I missed my parents more than anything, but this one, small, childish habit of simply playing with my hair helped me keep my resolve and strength. Silly, isn’t it? Still, it was at that time that I discovered that I didn’t really hate my hair. I quite liked it, actually.