If Only... (Harry Potter Next Generation)

~July, 7 Years Ago~

I.am.so.sorry.

But seriously guys. Something awesome just happened. I am returning home from school and I see... 2,000 people have read this!?

Thank you so much! You have no idea how much I appreciate all of you reading and voting and hopefully enjoying my story. And to show how thankful I actually am, here are FOUR more chapters. Enjoy!

Over the past few years, Lizzy and I had fallen into a routine. And Saturday nights were spent at the Jones' for pizza. Something that- unfortunately- was a foreign concept in the wizarding world.

"I can't wait! This is going to be so much fun!" Lizzy squealed. I wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about. I was sure she had told me what it was a hundred times, but I kind of zoned out.

"Sorry, what are we talking about?" I asked again, taking another bite of pizza.

"My brother!" She slammed her hand down on the table. "He's coming back home today, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, course I remember." I lied, nodding along, enjoying my pizza too much to care. Lizzy's brother, Mark, was 15 years older than her and had left home years ago to join the British Army. Apparently it was what he had wanted to do since he was Lizzy's age- long before she was ever born. Now he was a Captain. I had only met him once just after the Jones' mored in but I don't remember much about him. This was the first time he had had a break in three years.

"It's going to be so much fun!" Lizzy repeated. "He said he'd take me to Conway Castle. You know what that is, don't you James?"

"No."

"Neither do I, but I bet it's amazing."

"That sounds great Liz, but are you going to eat that?" I asked, pointing to her pizza which had yet to be touched.

"No, you can have it. I bet I'm going to have hundreds of pizza's when Mark and I go to Conway Castle."

***

They never went to Conway Castle. In fact Mark didn't even show up that night, or the night after that, or the night after that.

Lizzy and her parents tired calling him on this thing called a telephone hundreds of times but he never answers. Then, three days late, someone knocked on the door. But it wasn't Mark. I remember watching from my window. Two serious looking men pulled up in a white and blue car and knocked on the Jones' door. Mrs Jones let them in immediately and ten minutes later Lizzy ran out of their house, furiously wiping tears from her eyes. She headed across the road, towards the forest two streets over. We created a den of sorts out there a few years ago. Our parents pretended they didn't know about it, but their knowledge of it was probably the only reason they actually let us go out there. Within the community it was like the Forbidden Forest II.

"Mum can I go out?" I yelled from my room.

"Go where?"

"Go and... um... play?" There was silence for a few moments then, "alright, fine. Just be back in time for dinner. Your cousins are coming round, remember." Oh right, I forgot. "Yeah, I remember." I grabbed my coat and charged downstairs and out the door before Mum could even finished her "goodbye".

***

I heard Lizzy before I saw her. Her sobbing echoed through trees and my heart squeezed at the sound.

She was sitting on the floor of the den, curled up, her head on her knees and arms around her legs. I walked up to her hesitantly and sat down opposite her without her notice.

"Lizzy?" She didn't even flinch. "Lizzy? What happened?"

She mumbled something incoherent without lifting her head.

"What?"

For the first time, she looked at me. Dried tears stained her pink cheeks and her nose was snotting. I tried not to pay attention to the last one. "I said, he's dead. Mark's dead." All words died on my tongue and my heart stopped. My mouth opened and closed like a fish. I didn't know what to say.

"I-I'm sorry."

She wiped the back of her hand under her nose. "You shouldn't be apologising. You're not the drunk driver that killed him." She lowered her head back onto her knees. I hesitated a moment before crawling over beside her. I rested my hand on her back and stroked slowly and awkwardly. She lifted her head slowly and stared at me, an eyebrow raised.

I dropped my hand instantly and felt my cheeks grow hot. "Sorry," I mumbled. Then I heard a something I didn't expect to hear. A giggle. I gaped at her, not believing what I had heard. Then she did it again. And again. And before long we were both laughing, rolling around on the floor, clutching our stomachs.

They say time heals all wounds, but personally, laughing is a pretty good remedy.

***

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