Someone Like You

Sixteen seconds. That's how long it took to end my life as I had always known it. One letter, a few carelessly written sentences, describing an unfortunate event. As hard as I try, I doubt that I will ever forget that moment, or worst, the gut-wrenching agony that followed it. It's kind of funny, in a terrible way, how much detail I retained from the worst day of my life. I mean, to this day, I still remember the clothes I wore, the way the air smelled; musty, even the echo of footsteps far off in the distance. I remember feeling like my entire world was literally coming to an end, and all I could feel was pain, and anger, and pain...blinding pain. Like I'd never known what it was to hurt before that moment. I had never known loss. But now, I did. I always would. It would never go away.



I groaned miserably, rolling over in bed. I knew instantly I was going to have a bad day as two annoyingly chatty voices reached my ear. “Shut up,” I whined, burying my face in my pillow.

Alice and Hannah: the world's most aggravating roommates, and obviously mine, were always up at 6 AM sharp (8 AM on weekends), chatting away as they went through their daily routine. “Oh give it up, Porter,” Hannah snapped in her condescending tone, “you need to be up anyway, you're wanted in the Headmaster's office.”

I turned my head slightly to face her, "Is this some stupid kind of joke?"

"As if I'd waste my time on that," she scoffed.

Something told me she wasn't lying, I mean, we may have disliked each other, but we were civil. I forced myself out of bed, pulling on an over-sized sweater as I headed toward the door. I rolled my eyes as I heard Alice make a comment about being mortified to "be seen in that".

I walked along the corridors, finally reaching the door guarded by a statue of a gargoyle. I stared up at it in confusion and wonder. I had been in my fourth year at Hogwarts and still never seen the inside of those walls.

"Miss Porter," said a deep, gentle voice from behind me.

"Headmaster, sir" I replied turning to face him. There was something so powerful in his presence, I felt suddenly nervous. "You wanted to see me?" He nodded, gesturing at the now open stairwell leading up to his office.

He sat behind his ornate desk, peering kindly at me. "I asked you here today, Miss Porter, as I have received some," he paused for a moment, almost as though trying to find the most fitting words, "very unfortunate news. It's concerning your parents."

"My parents," I repeated.

My parents, like many of the parents of my fellow Slytherin classmates, had once been involved in very dark business. Just a few years before I was born, my father was a most loyal follower of He Who Must Not Be Named, my mother, so madly in love with him, she would have done just about anything to keep him. And so the two of them did his bidding, they did things they would never again speak of once I was born, once You-Know-Who had fallen. They took to a quiet life, raising me, but always fearing that he would return. My mother said it was my birth that changed my dad. Once I was born, he wanted nothing to do with the evil ways he had once so loyally claimed. He pulled himself away, cutting ties with anything and anyone who connected him to that time in his life. Needless to say, my father had made himself a decent amount of enemies.

I think it was a relief for everyone when the Dark Lord fell, but my parents always lived in fear. I don't think they were really capable of moving past it. They had seen things, they said, things that I would never understand. I knew they always worried. About the people my father had angered, and betrayed. Once I was born, he, like so many others, retreated from the people that he knew could ruin him. In fact, he ruined many of their lives. He was lucky to get off, free of any charge, but when the ministry showed up at our doorstep, demanding names, he was quick to tell them all he knew. He did it for me. He did it to give me a life, free of the wickedness and malice he knew to exist. And now, I too felt the fear they always had. Was it catching up to them? Had that terror they carried for years been in vain, or were they always destined to face an evil end?

He nodded, his face solemn, handing me an envelope. I recognized it immediately, it was from the Ministry.

"Sir," I said, my voice small and feeble, "may I please...I mean, would it be OK if I took this with me? Could I read this, alone?"

I felt a rush of sheer panic course through me. Something told me, from the moment I heard his voice, from the look in his eyes, from the letter I was holding, that they were gone. I knew it, somehow. And although my entire body felt weak and frail, that small shred of hope, that need to be wrong, kept me from breaking apart.

He nodded, watching a I stood, shakily, fumbling with the envelope in my hands. Neither of us said a word as I left his office, but in the silence I was certain he could hear the violent drumming of my heart, and the first of the endless amount tears I would cry, seeming to echo as it hit my cheek.

Once I got away, I ran, faster than I'd even run before, and I didn't stop until I felt my lungs burn and my legs, ready to give out. I ran until I felt alone, standing there in that secluded corridor.

With shaky hands, I ripped open the envelope and read those three lines that would forever change me:

To Miss Natalie Porter,

It is with deep regret that I inform you of the sudden and terrible death of Brian and Camilla Porter. Enclosed is a copy of their will, and the possessions they have left in your name.

It was almost as though the world had truly ended. I felt suffocated. As my worst fears were confirmed, I felt nothing but complete and total agony. The world seemed suddenly to be moving in slow motion as I fell back against the wall, sliding down to hit the floor.

My parents. The only people who would ever love me so honestly and unconditionally, and they were gone, without so much as a goodbye or and I love you, and there was nothing I could do about it. I realized then that everything I'd ever felt before was so small, so insignificant. Nothing could amount to the pain I felt in that moment, nothing ever had, or could, or would.



I don't know how long I sat there, letting the tears fall freely down my face. I felt them on my neck. I couldn't stop them and I didn't really want to. I just wanted the hurt to leave me, somehow. For this reality to somehow just not be anymore. The only thing that could possibly feel worst, was the knowledge that this pain would not only exist for a long time, but it would be there forever. In everything I said, and did, and felt, it would be there. I could never again be the girl I was when I woke up that morning. She was gone. She was not alone in the world. I, however, had never felt more alone in all my life.

Finally, after what literally felt like days, I found the will to stand again. I felt empty, and cold, like someone who was alive only by scientific terms. Inside, I was numb. I moved so slow I was barely moving at all, and my throat ached; everything ached.

I made my way to the dungeons, reaching finally the common room. It was empty, I had never noticed how eerie the silence was. I walked slowly to my room, wanting nothing more than to bury my face back into my pillow, and drift to a place less frightening and hateful.

The door swung open before I got to it, and I looked up, completely unphased to see my best friend, Ariel Edwards. Her face mirrored mine: red and puffy. Except she looked worried sick, whereas I felt nothing, just that same pain and disbelief.

She wrapped her arms around me protectively, holding me there even when I didn't respond, and my arms fells limp to my sides, unable to even react to this act of affection. "I'm so sorry," she whispered repeatedly, her hold never loosening, "it's going to be OK."

And it would, eventually. But the days that followed passed in a blur. A slow, painful blur. The holidays were just around the corner, but I had been excused from school a week early, sent to live with the Fowlers, who, according to my parents' will, were my legal guardians. I had no siblings, no one to hold on to, to help get me through. I faced the memorial service alone, surrounded by strangers and family I hadn't seen in years. Most tried to make conversation with me, but I turned my back on them. Their words were empty and meaningless to me now.



It all happened in a whirlwind. My parents were gone, my life stopped, but the rest of the world went on. Coping with that reality was nearly impossible. It had been a month since I'd heard about my parents, and still I found it incredibly hard, sitting in the great hall with my peers, getting through an entire class, sometimes even sitting alone in my room. Even with Alice and Hannah, who at that point, were treating me with such kindness and sincerity it made me uncomfortable, and Ariel Edwards, who did everything in her power to constantly distract me, to make me feel less alone.

Truthfully, I doubt I would have ever found the will the carry on had it not been for the one person who changed my life, the one who made me feel like it alright to smile again: the one I loved. It almost made me feel guilty, to think something good could have come of something so awful, but I couldn't deny it. I couldn't deny him.

It was after dinner, the great hall was clearing out, and as usual I strayed away from my friends, opting for the longer walk back to the common room. I had found that I preferred to be alone then, more than ever before. The halls were empty, just me and the echo of my footsteps. Until I wasn't. Alone, that is. I heard quick, heavy footsteps coming up from behind me, like someone was running.

"Hey," said a unfamiliar voice.

I stopped, turning to face him. Still, unfamiliar. "Natalie, right? You OK?"

I nodded slowly. I was confused, to say the least. "I just, I saw you, going the opposite direction...I thought maybe, you know, you were...you could use a friend."

"I'm--"

"I know, it's kind of odd, we've never really spoken before, I mean except that one time in our first year, but I've always thought you were a nice girl, and well, I heard about your parents and I'm just...really sorry," he blurted out, all the while, barely taking a breath.

I nodded.

I was used to this, the sympathetic looks, the condolences, the "are you OK's?" But I genuinely had no idea who this boy was, not even a name.

"So, are you OK? Or do you just like walking in dimly lit hallways alone at night?"

"I just," I began, still slightly shocked, "I like the time alone."

He nodded, "Right, well, I can just leave you alone then. Sorry, I was just-- is it weird? I just thought maybe--"

"Your name?" I interjected.

He stared, puzzled.

"I don't know your name," I explained, "I'm sorry, I'm just not sure who you are."

He looked like he was on the verge of utter humiliation. "Colin," he said, giving me the type of look that suggested I should know this, "Colin Edger. I'm in your house, we've had Potions together three years straight."

I smiled, unable to miss his charm, however awkward. "I'm sorry," I repeated, shaking my head. I extended my hand politely, "I'm Natalie Porter."

"I know," he replied, all too quickly.

He reached back behind his head. Something told me things had not gone as he planned. "Again, I'm sorry, I know you're probably really confused, I just thought maybe you'd want some company, or...just..."

I smiled again, watching him struggle with what to say next. He looked helpless, like he was ready to run, or worst, start ranting on again. "Sure," I said, "company would be nice."

That was all it took. I mean, truthfully, I'd become somewhat used to people behaving oddly around me, feeling the constant need to ask how I was feeling, as if at any second I would do something completely mental or suicidal, but Colin was different. Maybe I was just fourteen and vulnerable, or maybe it was that he'd made me smile my first real smile in weeks, I couldn't tell for sure, but I'm glad I didn't question it. I didn't know it then, but Colin Edger would one day be the best thing that had ever happened to me.