The Boy Who Lived Next Door

June 2nd, 1998
Present Day

This was it. This was the end. After this, there would be nothing to remember her by. He had no pictures, no school days full of laughter to recall. He had only his memories. He didn’t know whether that was enough to sustain him.

After these final entries, there was nothing else. But more than anything else, he wanted more. He wanted her.

September 21st, 1997
Dear Journal,

There have been no letters from Harry.
Not that I really expected there to be any.

He’s off in the world somewhere with Ginny.
I’d say I don’t miss him, but if I can’t be honest with myself…and a book of bound paper, who can I be honest with?

- Elle.

November 1st, 1997
Dear Journal,

There’s this boy at my school. His name’s Shawn. I’ve known him since I was a little kid, even longer than I’ve known Harry.

Shawn and I never really talked much before this year. I never really knew how funny he was. He sort of keeps to himself, like I do, at school. But he’s not just funny. He’s smart too. He was able to help me finally understand my Calculus class.

Sometimes when I’m with Shawn, I get that feeling that I used to get around Harry. It’s a lot weaker though, and it doesn’t happen a lot, but its there.

Last night, my school had a dance for All Hallow’s Eve. Shawn asked me to go with him and I did.

I had a great time. And for the first night since Harry left, I didn’t think of him once.

- Elle.

December 25th, 1997
Dear Journal,

Shawn and I have been going on dates ever since the dance in October.
Last night, he asked me to be his girlfriend.

I said yes, without any hesitation.

I really really care about him.

- Elle.

January 16th, 1998
Dear Journal,

Ever since I met Harry, everyone I met reminded me of him in some way, whether it be in looks or personality, but not Shawn.

Shawn has this gorgeous light brown hair, unlike Harry’s black hair.
Shawn’s hair is a bit long but not messy at all, unlike Harry’s.
Shawn’s eyes are hazel, and they can put Harry’s green eyes right out of my mind.

Unlike Harry, Shawn tells me everything.

- Elle.

March 9th, 1998
Dear Journal,

Shawn loves me.

When he told me, at first I was afraid that I couldn’t say it back but then I found that, with ease, the words just fell from my lips.

In the few months that I’d been spending with him, I’d fallen for him and his goofy charm.

I love Shawn.

But some days, more often then I’d like to admit, I find myself wishing it was Harry holding me.

Like today, for one truly horrible moment, I’d wished it was Harry telling me he loved me.

Some days, I don’t think of Harry at all. And then other days, I can’t get him off my mind.

Some days I want to forget.
Other days, I just want to remember.

- Elle.

May 2nd, 1998
Dear Journal,

Yesterday I went over to Shawn’s house.
We were sitting on his lawn when he went inside to get a snack for us.

He came back outside with two cherry popsicles. I haven’t had them since Harry left.

I had to leave. I couldn’t stay there with Shawn when all I’m thinking about is Harry.

I know the only way I could ever be happy dating Shawn is if I never met Harry.

I wish it was Harry who told me he loved me, who danced with me. I wish it was Harry who kissed me, who told me everything about himself. I wish it was Harry who was around.

And now I know that no matter what happens, I can never fully forget Harry.
I just wish he would’ve t

That was it. That was the end of the entry. That was all she wrote in her journal. That was all he got. In the end all he was left with was her unfinished thought.

It was more than he deserved.

And then it happened.

He didn’t want it to be over. This was what he’d be dreading. The ending,any ending. But most of all, he was dreading this ending. The ending where tear drops dotted her final page. This ending where he knew he had ruined her life. The ending where he knew he hurt her. That was the last thing he’d wanted to do.

A glimmer of hope shot up inside of him. Maybe she just wrote on the next page by accident. Maybe she stopped writing for a moment to get a snack and then…when she came back she wrote on the next page. Maybe it was an impossibility, but it was all he had.

Turning the page quickly, careful not to rip it, he stopped moving. The pages were blank.

But lying on the right page of the open journal was a single, silver, shining, hair-like substance.

It was a memory. Her final memory.

He stared down at it in confusion. The only way that memory could be there was if a wizard or witch had been with Elle with it happened. Harry apparated out of the room quickly.

He appeared in Dumbledore’s office. The enchantments protecting the castle against people apparating in or out were down while the castle was being restored.

The deceased Headmaster’s Pensieve was not sitting on his desk. Instead, Harry found it in the cabinet where he had first seen Dumbledore pull it from.

Locking the door to the Headmaster’s…well now the Headmistress’ office with his wand, he turned back to the stone basin before him.

Taking out the diary, he flipped open to the memory. Carefully, he poured the memory into the Pensieve.

Before he leaned in, he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He was finally going to learn how it happened.

Leaning into the Pensieve, he allowed himself to be pulled down into the memory.
He landed in her room and saw her immediately.

She was scribbling in the journal, with a frown on her face.

He knew she must be writing her last entry.

A small smile found its way upon his face. It’d been so long since he smiled, it felt foreign to him.

He let his eyes devour her image. It had been so long since he had seen her. It almost hurt to look at her.

Elle pushed her journal away from herself and looked away from it. He froze for a moment as her eyes met his.

He tricked himself into believing she could actually see him.

"Elle," He whispered. "Elle," he called her name again. But she continued to stare at, or rather through him.

With a shaking hand, he reached out to run his fingers down her cheek but his hand only went through her.

The moment dragged him back to reality. She could not see him. She could not feel his presence.

Elle sighed as she glared down at the journal just before she threw her pen across the room.

She brushed her hair back from her face as he knew she did when she was frustrated.

"Why couldn’t you just tell me everything?” She asked the journal, as if it would give her answers.

“I thought you would be afraid of me. I didn’t want you to run away.” He whispered as he stepped closer to her.

“Why didn’t you care?” She questioned.

“I did, I swear I did.” He pleaded for her to believe him. But he knew she couldn’t hear.

"Why did every bad thing have to happen to you? Why did you have to lose your parents and your godfather?”

“Why did I have to lose you?” He asked in return.

“Why did I have to fall for you?” She was getting louder now. “Why did you have to hurt me?” His heart ached as he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. They soon fell onto the journal’s open pages. “Why?” She whispered.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Elle. Not you. Not ever.” He knew it was pointless. He knew there was no reason to explain, she couldn’t hear him. There was no way for her to hear.

But he felt that he had to tell her. He had to say it, just in case she could hear.

“Why couldn’t you just be a neighbor to me? That’s all I am to you!”

“No!” He shook his hand fiercely. “You’re more. You’ve always been more!”

“Why did you have live next to me? Why couldn’t you talk to the neighbor who lives at Number 2 Privet Drive? Why me?” She cried out.

“Because I’m not the Boy Who Lived to you! I’m just the boy who lived next door. I was no one. I couldn’t tell you because I didn’t want that to go away. And I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I know you. But I didn’t want to hurt you! Elle please-” He reached out to touch her face but she put her head into her hands.

“I could be happy with Shawn, if it wasn’t for you,” she mumbled.

“I don’t want you to be happy with Shawn!”

“You could be happy with it wasn’t for…if it wasn’t for Voldemort.” She mumbled. “Then you never would’ve met me,” she concluded.

She said his name with no fear in her voice because she didn’t know. She didn’t know so she simply said his name.

She said his name.

Harry realized what was going to happen a moment before it did.

"No!" Harry yelled, knowing what was going to happen to her. She had said his name.

If only he hadn't been so stupid and told her, or if only he had smart enough to tell her everything.

He heard the telltale pop of apparition and he moved to stand between her and them.

Two Death Eaters appeared in her room. Elle screamed.

The sound rang in Harry’s ears.

Harry’s blood boiled as he recognized her. The tall, black haired Death Eater smiled cruelly down at the Elle, who was backing up into the corner of her room without realizing it.

“We’re on Privet Drive,” the second Death Eater murmured to Bellatrix. He realized that this man must be Rodolphus, Bellatrix’s husband.

This was where Bellatrix had been, mere hours before her death, doing her master’s bidding to the last.

“Who do we have here?” She said with malice evident in her tone.

Elle said nothing, she only stared with wide eyes at the two before her.

“Well?” Bellatrix snapped.

“E-Elle.” The girl stuttered out. The scene was breaking Harry’s heart; she was so afraid.

“E-Elle.” Bellatrix taunted in a falsetto voice. “Where is he, Elle?” Bellatrix yelled shrilly.

“Who-”

“Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed

Harry couldn’t look away at from Elle who, once the Unforgivable Curse hit her, crumpled down onto her bed, screaming in agony.

“Stop! No!” Harry screamed futilely, knowing there was no way to stop what had already happened.

Bellatrix lifted the curse, leaving Elle crumpled in a ball on her bed, panting heavily.

Harry remembered his first Crucio Curse. He remembered the excruciating pain that felt like knives stabbing him.

“Where is Potter?”

“Harry? I don’t know-”

“Crucio!”

Elle’s screams filled the room again as Bellatrix smiled at her pain.

Bellatrix continued with the curse even as Elle spasmed off the bed and fell to the floor with a thud.

“I don’t know where he is!” Elle screamed as she wrapped her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to protect herself.

Bellatrix lifted the curse.

“Oh my god.” Elle panted out as she shook on the floor. “I don’t know where he is. He never told me anything.” She whimpered.

“She’s a muggle,” Rodolphus muttered as he watched the scene before him. “She doesn’t know anything.”

Bellatrix smiled, as if she saw an opportunity her husband didn’t.

She knelt down to Elle’s level and with one long finger, she lifted up Elle’s head to meet her eyes.

“He never told you.” She breathed out with a malicious smile.

“W-who ar-are you-ou?” Elle stuttered out as she trembled.

“Potter put you in danger, the fool. And then he just left you.”

“Stop it.” Elle muttered.

“He never told you. He lied to you.”

“No!” Elle protested, but Bellatrix continued as she gained pleasure from tormenting the broken girl before her.

“He doesn’t care about you.” She said with a smile. “If he did, why would he leave you alone to be hurt?”

“Stop!”

Bellatrix’s hand tightly grabbed Elle’s chin, making her stare at her.

“He never told you what he can do. He’s a wizard. He can do magic.”

“Magic?” Elle muttered. “He…A wizard?”

Bellatrix smiled wider still. “Such a stupid girl.” She muttered. “You fell in love, it’s written upon your face. You fell for a boy who lied to you.”

“Shut up!” Harry screamed. “Shut up! Don’t talk to her! Don’t touch her!” He took a swipe at Bellatrix but it did nothing. His hand went through her like it was made of air.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see him soon,” Bellatrix murmured.

Elle said nothing; she only glared at the woman before her.

“Your beloved Harry will die soon enough. He cannot beat the Dark Lord.”

“Shut up! You’re wrong. You’re wrong!”

Bellatrix slapped Elle.

“Stupid girl.” She muttered before standing up and moving away from the crumpled heap on the floor.

Bellatrix shared a look with Rodolphus before they both pointed their wands at her.

“Crucio!” They yelled together.

“You will die today, Elle.” Bellatrix called. “Your half-blood love will soon be with you!”

Elle could do nothing to protect herself.

And Harry could do nothing to protect her; he never could.

“Elle!” He screamed as he watched the tears stream down her face. “Elle.” He whispered as he fell to his knees before her.

“He was right.” He heard her whisper, trying not to hear her voice growing weaker as the curse continued. “I couldn’t protect myself.”

The curse was killing her and Harry couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t save her.

Suddenly, Elle stopped shaking. She remained unconscious on the floor.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus stopped their curses.

“That didn’t take long,” Rodolphus muttered.

“She’s a weak muggle.” Bellatrix offered as explanation. “We have no need for her.”

Their voices were only dim in the background as Harry stared at her.

He had done this to her. It was his fault. He reached out slowly. But his hand, as he knew it would, just went right through her. He couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t hold her, now matter had much he wanted to.

“Avada Ked-” Harry’s head snapped to Bellatrix as she stood with her wand outstretched toward Elle. She had her left sleeve rolled up; Harry could see her Dark Mark.

“He’s calling.” Rodolphus said, “Leave her. She knows nothing.”

Grudgingly, Bellatrix agreed. However just before she was to turn to leave, she stopped short. Harry followed her gaze to the journal lying open on Elle’s bed. Bellatrix took it and flipped through it, smirking as she saw Harry’s name.

Flipping open to the last page, Bellatrix put her wand to her head and pulled out a silver strand. She put it in the journal and hid it away under the floorboard that Elle had left up.

“He’ll be back for her. And now he’ll know what he caused.” She smiled coldly again.

Bellatrix apparated away and Harry was pulled out of the memory and away from Elle.

He landed hard back in the Headmistress’ office.

Numbly, he put the Pensieve away and apparated back into Ron’s room at the Burrow. He flopped down onto his bed.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus must’ve blown up the house after they left.

It was his fault. If he hadn’t told her Voldemort’s name, she never would’ve said it and Bellatrix never would’ve found her.

If he had trusted her with the truth, then maybe she would’ve run away from him. Maybe she would’ve understood why she should’ve been afraid.

But he didn’t, and so he lost her.

He heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs but didn’t bother to look up at the doorway.

“Harry? Are you alright?” She asked quietly as she walked into the room and sat down next to him. “You’ve been distant, since we’ve been at the Burrow. Are you alright?” She asked again.

He turned his head to face her. Her eyes, meeting his, were full of concern and love. But they were brown.

He wished they were blue. And he hated himself for that.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry.” His hands went softly moved to cup her face as he closed his eyes. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

“Harry?” She questioned. “What’s going on? What’s wrong-”

She was stopped from speaking as his lips met hers. She thought it was to show her he cared, but it was so she would be quiet.

She sounded nothing like her.

With his eyes closed, he could imagine her there next to him. He could see her smile, her brown curls. He could almost hear her laugh.

As he kissed her, he imagined it was another; he imagined that it was hersoft lips that he found pressing against his own.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again as he pulled away. With his eyes still closed, he tangled his fingers in her soft hair. He imagined it was brown.

He slowly opened his eyes and he saw her there. There was Elle sitting before him with a concerned look on her face, her blue eyes dimmed with worry.

“Harry?” Her voice shattered the illusion.

Elle disappeared and suddenly Ginny was sitting before him.

He shut his eyes tightly before he opened them again but he could not regain his illusion.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated for the last time before he pulled Ginny into his arms.

But he did not know to whom he was apologizing: to Ginny, for wishing she was someone else, or to Elle, for losing her.