Harry Potters Grandauther

Chapter 11

6 years later

August 10th 11:53 pm

Nymphadora awoke in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. She had the same nightmare she had had since her sister had died, of the living hell that shattered her world and tore everything she knew to shreds. Nymphadora was 10, her birthday was a few minutes away. She grabbed a notebook and pencil she kept on her night stand.

Death's eyes are cold, the blue-black of a bruise

That will never heal.

She slammed the book shut and started to silently weep. The book was a rose red, with a binding of a silver curl, and the pages were white as snow, with sky lines. Nymphadora had written "Blab Therapy" on it in a fire orange. The notebook helped her when she had a hard time with life, like when someone looked at her like she was a kicked puppy or something. It especially helped when she had her nightmare. It was the same one she had had since she was 5 years old.

It always started out in the office, with green walls. Not the earthy leaf green that nature is known for, but a loud bright, kiwi green that makes you squirm and cry. The walls were always that shade of green. There were the pleads of a figure in blue with long black hair, and Death. With his pale complexion and deep blue-black pits for eyes, and then a scream. Everything turned neon green after the scream. The worst kiwi-green ever. Everything became burly, with a high-pitched laugh .Death looked into her face. He was blurry, but not any less terrifying. Then came the blinding green light again. And pain. That was the part that Nymphadora always awoke to.

She tried not to scream, so her Grandparents wouldn't worry, but she never could. It always took at least five minutes to convince them she was ok. She loved them and all, but they worried about her too much. And Blab Therapy worked its own brand of magic.

The funny thing was that Nymphadora always wrote in Poems. She could never explain why, but that's how it came out of her hand. There were poems about pity and pain and several poems recounting the dream. There were also color poems. For example:

Red is a wonderful color.

Red fills up a room.

You could snuggle right into red's warmth.

Red makes you forget all your worries.

Neon Green in the color of fear

Neon Green is the color of slime

Neon Green light shatters your heart into a thousand minuscule


Never to unite again

Such a curious thing

For Red and Green to be paired together

For Christmas

The holiday of Joy and peace

There are good and bad in everything

But the portion is what matters

No one had dared to read the notebook, Nymphadora kept everywhere she went, incase of a need for Blab Therapy. She was currently working on a poem about Death himself, or by his proper name, Alcuzor. Nymphadora sighed. She knew she would never get the guts to finish this poem. Even though she had gotten her letter from Hogwarts a month ago, she felt more scared than excited. She knew that she would never be as good as Veronica. In Fact, Nymphadora Potter was dreading Hogwarts. She could stand going to Quidditch Matches, but she famous and everyone thought she was some kicked puppy. On a scale of pain from 1-10, pity would be about a 4. But Quidditch would make up for any pity parties people secretly had in their brains. Quidditch was awesome.

Nymphadora loved Quidditch. It was always an exciting time when She went to Holyhead Harpies Games, and the Quidditch World Cup was the best thing ever. Nymphadora of course had her own broom. In fact, she could vividly remember her own first ride on a broom, when she was 5.

It was snowy, too cold to go outside for long, so Nymphadora was stuck inside. She has wanted to try out her new toy broom so badly. So She looked in her photo album to some people riding on brooms. She went on her own broom kinda the same way, and was soon zooming across the hallway. The wind was exhilarating, and she felt as if nothing could stop her. Then she hit a wall. It hurt really bad, so she screamed and Grandad came running upstairs. He saw what happened, pulled out his wand, and fixed her so she wouldn't get a concussion.

"I can see you caught the flying bug." He said chuckling. " Your father did the same thing, wouldn't be surprised of you two hit the same spot." Then he gave a big hug. "Nice flying. How about we bundle up and try this outside?" Nymphadora nodded her head in agreement. Then they went outside in the cold pearl snow and had the best time.

Nowadays Nymphadora had moved up from toy brooms to a Nimbus 2000. It was the only one Gran would agree in. Nymphadora knew that Gran had been seeker on the Holyhead Harpies, and had wrote for the Daily Prophet about Quidditch, but Gran wanted to keep Nymphadora safe as much as possible (with was a very good thing in the long run, but try telling a 9 year old that). Grandad on the other hand, was already helping Nymphadora with Quidditch skills to see what position she would be best at. It was really a formality because Nymphadora was built for Seeker. Either way, it was getting late. Nymphadora yawned and went back to sleep. She would work on her seeker skills in the morning.

When Nymphadora woke up, she felt happy. Today is my 11th birthday. She thought to herself. Nothing bads gonna happen. So she quickly got dressed in her favorite outfit: A red shirt with hearts on it and ruffles, some deep blue jeans, sneakers that were once white but are now muddy and grass stained from use, and a red headband. Nymphadora went into the blue bedroom, which once belonged to Auntie Lilly, and brushed her short, black, hair and put it back with the red head looked at her face in the mirror. Her face looked like Grandad's, but her skin was the same brown as her sister and her mother. Or at least the pictures of her mother that she could find, and the distorted memories Nymphadora had of her sister.

Her stomach dropped. How could she have forgotten?! Nymphadora looked at her purple watch. It was 8:11 am! Her mother's had been dead for 10 years just seven hours before. She suddenly felt a huge weight on her shoulders. Nymphadora walked downstairs slowly.

"What's wrong?" Gran asked, concerned. "Sweetie are you ok?"

"I guess." Nymphadora reached for her notebook. But it wasn't there! I must have left it in Aunt Lily's room! So Nymphadora ran upstairs. Luckily, she found it right in the drawer that she put her brush in. She went downstairs. "I'm ok know." Nymphadora said.

"I'm glad." Said Gran, breathing a sigh of relief. " Now let's go celebrate someone's Birthday!" Nymphadora smiled

" You mean MY birthday!" She said giggling.

" Yea that's it!" Gran said back, giggling. The thing with giggling is that if it starts, then it's highly contagious, so it never truly stops. As Gran and Nymphadora walked into the dining room, the giggling was uncontrollable. But it immediately stopped when they got into the dining room. They had to compose themselves.

" Happy 11th Birthday Nymphadora!" Grandad said, full excitement. "Would you like to open some presents?"

"YEA!" Nymphadora screamed. " Sorry. I just got excited."

" That's ok. It's not everyday you turn 11." Grandad said. "If I recall, on my 11th birthday, Hagrid knocked down a door and gave my cousin a pig tail." Nymphadora's eyes grew wide.

" Really?"

" Really." So Grandad got into the tale of his 11th birthday. He was just about to get to the part where he was going to scare Dudley at midnight when Nymphadora gasped.

"Is that a Laptop?!" She asked.

" You bet." Said Gran beaming.

" But electronics go on the friz if they come to close! Right?" Nymphadora asked.

" Yes but this is part of a new line called WizTec." Grandad proudly answered." It's software is compatible with both muggle and magical internet."

"We even got it red, your favorite color." Gran proudly said. Nymphadora could barely speak. Her heart was too big for words. Her grandparents understood. Suddenly Gran made some red carnations for Nymphadora. She took them and went outside, to go put them in front of the graves of her loved ones, like she did every morning.

I hope Mom, Veronica, Great-Gran and Great-Grandad like these carnations. Nymphadora thought. They were very beautiful. Then she heard voices, a girls voice and a boys.

"Eric! Give it back! I need it!" A girl's voice yelled.

"No way, Felica! I made it!" Eric yelled

"You made it for me! And besides, It's my favorite flashlight!" Felicia yelled back. Nymphadora stopped to listen.

" To bad! You asked if I could modify it and I did!" Eric yelled.

" I never said you could keep it!" Felicia yelled. Then she started to cry.

"Fine! Have your dumb flashlight!" Eric yelled, and tossed a purple flashlight to Felica. She caught it with no problem, then turned it on and shown in Eric's eyes. That wasn't the problem. The problem was instead of Ivory light, neon Green light emanated from the purple flashlight!

Nymphadora dropped everything she was carrying and started to breathe heavy. She was having flashbacks to that awful day, that day were Alcuzor used the neon green light on her sister. Nymphadora screamed and ran home. When she finally did get home, she completely ignored her grandparents scared peas of what was wrong, and ran straight to her room. She flopped down on her bed, screamed and cried into her pillow. Her grandparents birthed into the room. They asked what was wrong about a thousand times. Weather She told them about Felica and Eric and the green light she didn't now. Nymphadora was in a trance of fear and heartbreak. She must have told them, because Gran and Grandad were telling her something, but she couldn't make it out. Then she passed out.

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