Harmony and the Philosopher's Stone

11-Research

The next day at breakfast, Malfoy was astonished to see us all eating at the table, and not on the train back home.

I was sitting next to Hermione and Neville. Claire was sitting farther up the table with Lavender, chatting up a storm with Parvati Patil. Harry and Ron were sitting a litter farther down from the three of us, probably angry about last night.

It seemed like they were talking about something private, but I was able to overhear some of their conversation. It was scattered, but I made out "about two inches long" and "really valuable or really dangerous." I was itching to know what they were speaking of.

Hermione, on the other hand, showed no interest in speaking to Harry or Ron in a while. I guessed that she was still angry about having to go after them last night.

Then there was Neville. Neville had not brought up the topic of the three headed dog,  but he was still very much out of it today. I could only imagine what would happen to Neville today in class, since usually he made mistakes and was in mishaps and such. Like dropping a cauldron on his toe in Potions, or pointing his wand at the wrong object in Transfiguration. Either way, something bad always took place when Neville was around, the poor guy.

Soon, the owls entered the Great Hall with the mail. A small box fell before Claire's plate- I wondered what it was. A letter floated down in front of Neville, and one for Hermione. I turned to my right, and Ron also had a note in front of his meal. Then I remembered Harry, and the resemblance between who we lived with. It appeared that he had no mail, which made me feel better, until a giant thump brought down a large package in front of him. His face filled with glee as he read the note. He and Ron immediately rose from their seats, took their mail, and basically ran out of the Great Hall.

I sighed. Now I really was all alone, and I had no one that I could relate to. I wondered what it was like to have an actual family- a mom and a dad, maybe a sister or a brother. I would particularly enjoy a sister, I think.

That's when I got up, also. I didn't need to go to Potions today- did I?

Without saying a word, I deserted what was left of my breakfast plate, and headed to the library.

I had trouble finding it, at first. I had to ask any students in the halls who weren't eating their food, so there weren't many. Even if I did ask someone, they would take advantage of a lost little first year, and send me to some unheard of hallway.

But I did get there, soon enough. I entered, and walked up to the front desk. There was a sign that said, 'Miss Pince.'

"Hullo," I said. Then, I forgot why I was there. Um...

Right! My parents. How could I forget.

"Do you have any old newspapers?" I asked the librarian. "Especially maybe some on births and deaths."

Silently, she led me towards the corner of the library, and nodded to some filing cabinets. I didn't even thank her before she had rushed back to her desk.

I pursed my lips and began my search. There were files dating back until 1950s, and the newer ones were from two or three years ago. The year I was born, 1980, was easy to find thanks to the labeling.

I pulled out the newspapers. They weren't just birthdays, there was lots of imformation on past events from that year.

Until now, I had no idea why Harry had been so famous among the students. Most of the articles were about him, and his family. They were all the way back from October 31, 1981- almost eleven years ago.

Now, I'm not much of a stalker, but this was different (I hoped). Harry's past seemed intriguing, and it was definitely better than sitting in the Potions classroom. I unfolded the first newspaper that was from Hallowe'en. It was called The Daily Prophet. I read the article, by some newsman.

Attack in Godric's Hollow- November 1, 1981

Godric's Hollow, the neighborhood of peaceful houses and gardens, was brutally ambushed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The House of James and Lily Potter was disturbed by the dark wizard in late evening. James and Lily were, unfortunately, found dead in their house, which was nearly demolished. But the amazing, most inconceivable thing that has taken place last night, was how Harry Potter, the victims' one year old son, survived the killing curse that was laid upon him by You-Know-Who. Lord Voldemort, it seems, has been wiped off the face of the Wizarding World, thanks to Harry James Potter.

Carefully, I placed the article down on my lap. I felt odd. Out of my place, sort of. Was I really snooping that much? Guilt washed over me, and I put the newspaper clip back in the 1981 file. I was supposed to be researching my parents. Focus, Harmony.

And I did focus. For the next hour, I grazed through all the newspapers from my birthyear. As I looked through it, I noticed that it had no muggle-borns. I couldn't find Hermione anywhere. But, I did find Ron. And Claire. The way it worked was, there would be a picture of you, only it moved. Which I thought was amazing, of course. Your name was under your photograph, accompanied by the names of your parents. They were sorted by day, by time. With these guidelines, I looked for myself. I wondered if I were a muggle born or not. I didn't know if it was right to find out, but I just had to know.

And find myself, I did. On July 31, 1980, my name was printed, right after Harry's and surprisingly, Neville. There was no picture. There were no parents. There was no last name.

Just 'Harmony'.

Tears welled in my eyes. I put the papers back in the filing cabinet, all out of order. I didn't care if anyone knew what I was looking at, or if it was me looking. I needed to leave the library. I needed to talk to someone, but who would I talk to?

By now, tears were streaming down my cheeks, and I decided to go where no one would see me: the bathroom. Nothing bad happened in bathrooms, I hoped.

I ran down hallway after this, hallway after that, until I approached a girls' toilet. The door was old, and the wood was splintered. I entered anyway.

By the time I slammed the door, I was sobbing. My parents had the nerve to put my name in the newspaper, but drop the last name, the picture, and their own names? Were they just trying to prove that I existed?

Slowly, my tears turned into anger. I was biting on my own hair, trying to keep my head from exploding. I was mad at the newspaper, for printing my name. I was mad at myself, for wanting to read the paper. And I was mad at my parents, for abandoning me.

At least I knew one thing- I wasn't a Muggle-born. I had that in my claim, and no one could take it away from me. Not even Malfoy. Now Hermione was going to feel left out, though...

But whatever. It's not my fault I'm not a Muggle-born, anyways. And I don't think she can feel more lonely than I do today.

At once, my thoughts were interuppted by a slight humming. It almost sounded like someone was talking to themselves. Just in case, I wiped my eyes, and left the bathroom, knowing that even if I wasn't too strong on the inside, I could look strong on the outside.