Hero

Hero

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“You…This isn’t criticism, Harry! But you do… sort of… I mean -- don’t you think you’ve got a bit of a -- a -- saving- people-thing?”- Hermione in OOTP( Chapter Thirty-Two, Out of the Fire, pg. 733, US Hardback)

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He handled the bag in his hands cautiously. The zipper snapped upwards as his hand lay idly there. His whole body stood rigid in hesitance.

A churning feeling enveloped him. A residing voice quietly told him to condone this and continue to ignore their behavior. To turn back and endure this.

But didn’t this alternate voice understand? He was already near his breakdown. He was practically hanging down this precipice of depression, of insanity.

Clear tears marked his cheeks.

The taunting words of his relatives echoed in his head.

“Freak.”

His trembling hands rubbed furiously at his wet cheeks. He didn’t need to add to their satisfaction by letting those harsh words get through him, past his stoic exterior.

And yet, who was he trying to kid? Their jeers would continue to haunt him. He couldn’t stop these recurring memories as they played over and over again.

He couldn’t help but glance around his school courtyard after classes ended for the day. And watch them. Watch his peers hurriedly rush to their parents and exclaim about the new Tonka truck they played with or the Macaroni project they created for them.

His hand would shake as he stared at his own project. The one he made with such precision and dedication. The one his teacher smiled and patted him on the back for.

But in the end, who would he give it to?

“Look at you Potter,” Dudley told him at once. “You’re pathetic! You think your parents are going to waltz down here and take your stupid thing! As if they would ever be proud at your ugly Macaroni.”

In a way, Dudley was right, he reasoned. After all his parents were indeed dead. Just why couldn’t he comprehend that? Why did he always fill up with glee as he rushed down the school steps as he fruitlessly waited for them?

And be hopelessly crushed as the seconds, minutes, hours passed by. Where reality would then hit him. And the pang in his heart hurt more, and was deadly noticed.

He would drag his feet over to his home and avoid looking at his sneering Aunt. He did not want to see the stir of pity and detest in her gaze.

He did not want his actions to be acknowledged and recognized for their true intentions.

So he would walk past the hallway and discreetly slip in his cupboard, though not before he looked at the stack of frames gracing the corridor desk.

His eyes would lock with a picture he always looked at. The one that had his mum in it.

Perhaps that abandoned and neglected photo in the corner was the one that made him fill up with this hope. Hopeless hope.

He patted the part of his backpack, where the frame of the treasured photo jutted out. Glad at being reassured that it was safe inside the closure. He continued to walk down the endless pavement.

The one that lead him away from them.

Not once did he look back at Number Four Privet Drive.

______*_______

His hands shivered against the passing wind. In an in’sync motion his legs quivered. Then seconds later his stomach rumbled loudly enough to catch the eye of disapproval from the passing lady.

Harry panicked as she started walking in his direction. What about if she took him back to them?

Regardless of his weariness his legs propelled forward as he rushed to the opposite direction from where the lady stood.

His face stung as he dove through the branches and prickly thorns of some bushes. He continued to run but exhaustion soon caught up. His body swayed and his vision was coupled with dancing white dots.

He collapsed to where he was. Some kind of groove. The weeds tumbled out from the ground and the swings that were to the side were colored an interesting shade of red. Yet the hint of rust dusting the metal clued Harry in that this place had been abandoned for a while.

He smiled at that thought. He ran into the right place after all.

Just as he was deciding where he was going to sleep tonight (under the swing or under the tree?) a wailing shriek caught his attention.

His head snapped upwards. What was that?

He cautiously walked toward where he heard the noise.

“Give it back! It isn’t yours!”

He knelt down beside one of the many bushes that surrounded him. His hands parted the twigs and branches as he peeked toward the distraction.

A girl that looked around his age tried to reach what was grasped in the hand of some older boy. A blonde haired girl shrieked with laughter as the bushy haired girl jumped up and down in a full blown out tantrum.

The smaller girl looked to the point of tears as the wasted rag doll dangled in the grip of the bolstering boy. The boy just laughed at her attempts.

This served to make the girl fluster with anger. She shook one of her tiny fists and swung it it in the bicep of the snickering boy.

The two looming people stopped jeering immediately. The blonde girl looked at the smaller one in astonishment, as if she was surprised that the girl would not do anything to them.

Harry knew better than to underestimate what can be done when you were rushed with the adrenaline of anger.

After all, he experienced it often enough.

The older boy quickly wore off the shock at what happened and looked more menacing than ever. He tossed the rag doll towards Harry’s direction. The dress of said doll was caught by one of the twigs protruding out.

The rip of the blue skirt the doll was wearing was heard.

The small girl choked back a sob and moved to rush to it. Harry rolled over to his side, but still kept an eye out.

Before the girl even reached him or the discarded doll, she was halted by the boy’s presence. He grasped her arm tightly that the girl gave out a quiet scream of horror.

The accompanying girl shouted to the boy to stop as he continued with the display.

“Stop you’re hurting me,” the girl spoke quietly. Her legs wobbled in front of her.

“Then you should have thought twice about hitting me.” With each word the boy voiced out, his grip on the arm of the girl grew tighter. Tears were now cascading down her cheeks as she cried from the pain.

Harry couldn’t help but shake with the anger at what he was seeing; the aggravation of this exploded around his body. A feeling passed over his insides as his hands closed into fists.

He recognized this transformation as the one that caused trouble with his relatives. The one in which pure power, as it was the only word to describe it, coursed down his veins.

“Sean quit it!” Yet the blonde girl did not move to help the younger one.

Sean did not pay attention or ignored the girl’s yells. His malicious gaze stared down at the frightened girl.

“You have to learn your place, Freak.”

The declaration echoed around Harry’s head. This was what caused his breakdown from being neutral. This single word prompted him to reveal his own presence.

“Get away from her!”

He felt commanding and powerful. His anger and emotion caught up to him. This anger was precious as it granted him confidence.

Far from his thoughts was that he was some shrimpy seven year old that was the victim of Harry hunting.

Whatever was happening at the moment strengthened him and made Superman look like some pushover.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?”

His proclamation made the boy direct his attention to him. The girl cowered as Sean released her. She nursed her injured arm but watched him.

“Someone that has some morals. Someone that doesn’t have to beat up girls younger than him to let off insecurity.”

He knew that his words were getting Sean, because the boy was practically shaking with indignation.

“How dare you!”

As the boy raised his fist, Harry was then hit with reality. Here he was challenging someone that had some muscle or more strength and who can forget the age. From the looks of it, the boy was about ten or nine.

Gulp.

Where was his powerful façade now? He closed his eyes and wished that the blow would not be too painful.

Yet it did not come.

Instead he heard a loud plump. He, with great dare, opened an eyelid and watched the revelation.

There on the soft decaying grass lay Sean. His head lolled to the side as he was unconscious, and Harry saw why.

A fallen branch was stationed right beside Sean, and judging by the rather large bump that was turning into an interesting shade of purple on Sean’s forehead, the branch had something to do with it.

He then watched the small girl he came out for. Her arm was stretched out and her hand opened to its extent. Like her arm served as some weapon.

Her widened eyes indicated that she did something that caught her off guard as well. Her body shook with a feeling Harry could not determine.

He tore his gaze away from the girl as the other one howled with fright. She rushed to Sean and checked his pulse.

After a moment of awkward silence, the blonde girl looked up.

“I don’t know who the hell you both are,” her voiced wavered with emotion. “But if you ever step near me or Sean again…”

Her voice trailed off as she holstered the boy and tried to carry him. With super human strength, the girl managed to drag the heavier boy and eventually left Harry and the other girl alone.

The girl seemed to have recovered somewhat from what happened. Yet her head was set downcast and she quietly mumbled a “thank you” to him.

Harry dusted off his hands on his faded jeans. It was getting awkward now. He mumbled a “no problem” to her.

Harry sort of coughed in his hand and started walking in the direction of where he was before he was distracted. He looked behind him and was sort of glad that she did not follow him.

Or not.

Just as he turned she was stepped in front of him. How did she get in his groove before him?

He screamed out in surprise as she stuttered apologies to him.

“Oh! I am so sorry to have frightened you! But I… just wanted to get to know you better.”

The girl blushed as she said the last words. Harry couldn’t help but do the same.

“Why would you?” he asked her.

She looked astonished, as if what he said was obvious.

“Well because you are my hero,” she said this simply.

Harry rushed to his backpack and turned his back to her so she would not see the redness of his cheeks.

“I am no hero. I think I am the farthest thing from it.”

He couldn’t help but imagine the likes of him being compared to Batman or Spiderman. The idea of comparing him to those mythical heroes was laughable.

The girl gave out a quivering laugh. “Don’t be silly! Of course you are, you saved me. You are a hero… at least to me.”

Harry felt that he never blushed so much in his life.

“Well you sort of saved me, so that means you are my hero then,” Harry told her.

The girl gave out a wide smile that had him noticing her rather large two front teeth. She sat down beside him and presented her hand to him.

“I at least need to know the name of my hero.”

Why did she want to bother with his name?

“Er. I’m Harry.”

Gosh, it sounded so simple and stupid.

The girl’s grin grew wider, if that was possible.

“My name is Hermione.”

Now he was positive that his name sounded common and moronic compared to such a fanciful and rare name as Hermione.

“Hermione.” He like the way it sounded when he said it. Sort of like ice cream on a hot day.

Hermione clapped her hands and hugged him tightly around the shoulders. Harry froze in shock as someone gave him his first hug ever.

“Oh! You are the first person that is around my age that can pronounce it! I thought it was a lost cause!”

Harry merely smiled at Hermione’s excitement.

“Harry.” She looked thoughtful and drummed her fingers on the ground. “There are a lot of authoritative figures in History that went by that name, or had the nickname.”

Harry’s ears perked up. “Like who?”

Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “Like Kings!”

“Kings?”

Hermione vigorously nodded her head. Her wild curls bounced around. “Yeah, I have read books about them. Well I am trying to read them without my mum. Oh. Those times were so interesting. They had customs that were so…”

She suddenly rose up from her sitting position and rushed to the bushes. Harry grasped his backpack and watched her. She came back with the rag doll she cherished.

She looked at it in despair for a second then dropped it in his lap.

He stared at her in puzzlement.

“My grandma gave me it. She even knitted Elizabeth’s jumper.”

Harry picked up the doll and inspected it.

“Ok…” He was baffled onto why she was telling him this.

“I want you to have it,” she answered him.

“What!?!”

She plopped her body down and started on her explanation.

“It is the least I can do. In ancient times people used to give gifts for thank you’s to their Heroes, or get courted to them.”

Harry sat there slack jawed.

“Not that I am saying we should! Anyway we are too young to be boyfriend or girlfriend… yet.”

Harry gulped rather loudly.

“What I mean is that this--” she gestured to the doll “--is my ‘thank you’. Something you can remember me by.”

He now looked at the torn doll with a new perspective. This day was turning out to be one of many firsts for him. This was his first present that wasn’t a paperclip or a dust ball.

“Then I should give you something as well.”

The girl looked elated and feebly protested. Harry grinned and reached inside his sack. But then he was reminded that he had nothing to give. Besides some bread, a blanket or whatever objects were in the sack.

“What is it?” Hermione asked as Harry frowned.

“I don’t have anything you’ll like.”

Hermione snorted and snatched the backpack from him.

“Nonsense! I’ll like anything you give me, after all it was from you.”

Hermione then pulled out his treasured frame. She squealed with happiness.

“Who is that?”

She pointed at a young girl that sat near a garden. The girl crouched near some lily flowers and smiled. It looked like she was not even aware of the photo being taken. Her green eyes glittered with happiness and her red hair was being blown by some breeze.

“That is my mum.”

Hermione traced his mother’s outline.

“She’s beautiful. This makes me think back to some stories I read.”

Hermione looked enchanted by the photo. Harry glanced at it then her. He sighed as he came to a conclusion.

“It’s yours.”

She let it drop in her lap. “What?!? No, I can’t accept it.”

“Are you rejecting my gift to you?” He coyly responded.

She opened her mouth and shut it several times. Harry knew that she wanted to keep it.

“But it is yours. And a picture of your mum! It must be special, since you carried it here. Speaking of that, why do you have a backpack with you?”

Harry leaned against the nearest bush and hoped that it would support him.

“I ran away.”

Hermione gasped and stared at him baffled. “But why?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said it was complicated.

“You have to go back! How are you going to live then?”

Harry bristled with annoyance. “It isn’t your business.”

Hermione pursed her lips and wagged her finger at him.

“It very well is! As your Heroine, I am entitled to step in and help you.”

Harry could not help but be filled with some odd emotion as she voiced that out.

“Why do you care? You barely know me.”

She burrowed her brow and gazed down at the ground. Her fingers plucked some random grass blades.

“I don’t know. I feel sort of drawn to you. Regardless of whether we just met.”

Harry did not know what to say. His tongue felt a bit too thick and he had trouble swallowing his saliva.

“Thank you.”

They both stared at each other and did not say a word. Their staring contest was broken when somebody kept bellowing shrieks of “HERMIONE!”

“I need to go, that is my mum.”

Harry did not want her to leave. It was too soon.

“Oh.”

It looked like she did not want to either. She stood up and Harry did the same. They both walked to the bushes, where the groove came to an end.

He parted some twigs and part of the bushes to let her pass. As she did, she lingered.

“I guess this is a goodbye,” he said.

She clutched the frame he gave her and shook her head. “No. We will meet again.”

She spoke with such assurance that he almost believed her.

“How do you know?”

Why did she have to leave? His hands wrapped around Elizabeth the rag doll.

“I just do.” She smiled then leaned across the bush. Her face was inches from his. Quickly she closed the remaining space and softly kissed his cheek.

“We will meet again because you are my Hero. What kind would you be, if you did not protect me?”

She winked and skipped away. With once last glance at him, she disappeared.

Harry let his hand rest where her lips met. He grinned and thought that maybe being Harry wasn’t so bad after all.

He was Hermione’s hero as she was his. And that was not bad at all.

A/N: First of all I would like to thank my new beta, MD. You actually tortured yourself enough to beta this and I am baffled as to why. Nitya, I hope you had/have a great time in India. Then this goes out to all the people who read Remember. This was suppose to be its sequel. And I am going to add a bit to it later. Kind of like a side story to this. I probably am not making sense. Anyway this story was made for the readers. And Nielle, since you made my ego pleased when you made me have cameos in your stories.

Until next time then…