Eighth Year - Drarry Fic Part 4

The weeks crept on at Hogwarts and before you knew it, quidditch season was upon them. Harry was filled with new excitement at the prospect of having an uninterrupted quidditch season. He was sure to help Gryffindor fly to the top and secure the cup. He and Ginny were co-captains this year, and tryouts had gone brilliant. Ron even made the team again! Another great thing about quidditch is that it was something Harry and Draco actually had in common. The two boys would wake up together and get ready for practice, trudging through morning dew on the pitch. Draco had even lent Harry his broom polish, and in return Harry had given him some tips on broom stabilization.

It was after a particularly fun scrimmage that the two Seekers had a profound moment. They were in their room, changing out of their sweaty uniforms that Harry again noticed Draco’s silvery scars. In the spirit of their new-founded familiarity with each other (friendship was still a strong word) he decided to ask Draco about it.

“Malfoy, how’d you get those scars on your chest?” The grey eyes looked up at him and Draco’s face turned tense and cold. Harry thought he was going to get ignored, but to his surprise Draco opened his mouth to speak.

“My house was broken into over the Summer. Crazed half-bloods who were mad at my parents. Said they were fans of the Order of the Phoenix and I should rot. It was some sort of spell I’d never heard of.” Draco paused and Harry saw his face contort in pain, making his sharp features more vicious. “Something similar to sectumsempra.” Draco stared harshly at the floor, unwilling to meet Harry’s gaze.

Eighth Year - Drarry Fic Part 3

Chapter 3

The rooms in the new suite were nice. They were spacious. Harry thought it would be nice to have as much room to himself as possible. Draco was moving across the room organizing his things, his movements were brash and quick. He made up his bed, hung his clothes, and put a few keepsakes on his desk. Harry was sprawled on his bed pretending to read his quidditch book. Even though it was their first day, and not much has happened yet, he was exhausted. He had helped Hermione and Ron fix their room up and placed his things in the joint bathroom. Having his best friends so close relieved him a bit. So far, Draco was pretty quiet. He’d only insulted Harry’s things a few times.

Draco was trying to ignore Harry Potter as best he could. He was trying to keep busy, neurotically tinkering with every detail of the room. His mother had told him to send an owl once he was settled, and he was thinking of what that letter would look like.

Eighth Year - Drarry Fic Part 2

Draco Malfoy sneered and said "Potter" in the same chilling voice as always. Harry looked Draco up and down, noticing the long, lean lines of his body. The surprise of running into his longtime nemesis made Harry stumble dumbly, and he needed a minute to recuperate.

"Malfoy," Harry replied, mustering up all the menace he could. Hostility had always come between the two boys, but it felt magnified now that Malfoy's father was in prison, and Harry knew that Draco blamed him. But Harry knew what it felt like to be without a father (or a mother) and somewhere deep down he almost felt sorry for Draco. Harry still very much blamed Mr. Malfoy for ending up in Azkaban, but he felt bad that Draco had to suffer because of it. For the first time since he knew Malfoy, he had a moment of realization: they both lost in the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Are you going to move?" Draco asked, his gray eyes aflame. Harry started to shift his body against the wall of the small corridor, making room for Draco to pass. Draco scoffed and took a step forward, only to be stopped by Harry's arm suddenly placed in front of his chest, blocking the way.

"Malfoy..." he started. He swallowed his pride and decided to try to meet Draco halfway. What was there to fight about now? "Draco," he said. Saying his nemesis' first name felt sacrilegious. He noticed Draco pull his chin in towards his chest, clearly surprised. "Have a good year..." Harry finished and moved aside.

"Whatever," Draco mumbled as he shoved himself forward. Harry didn't know what to make of his reaction, but the important thing was that he tried. What he really wanted to tell the blonde boy was that he saw how much he was hurting. Harry would never say he was sorry for taking a part in the war, but he understood that Draco's life couldn't be easy right now. In fact, he almost wanted to say he was happy that Draco was returning. With all the changes sure to come this year, having his age-old rival to pull pranks on sparked a bit of joy.

By the time Harry returned to his cabin, he had reminded himself of just how vile Malfoy could be. He smiled to himself remembering their third year when he'd had the privilege to see Hermione sock him in the nose. She knocked that grimy smile right off his alabaster face.

The next time Harry opened his eyes they were pulling up to Hogwarts. He quickly changed into his robes. The students were filing off the train, some clearly excited, and others clearly worried. A loud booming voice carried over the crowd. Harry looked up to see Hagrid's large, shiny face. He grabbed Ginny's hand and immediately started pushing through the crowd to see his friend.

"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed when their eyes met. "Harry, it's s'good to see ya!" the half-giant boomed. Large tears started to run down his face as Harry ran to hug him.

"Hagrid! We've done it, we've made it back to Hogwarts!" was all he could say. Hagrid was really the beginning of Harry's wizarding experience, and it felt right that he was the first person to greet him.

"Blimey, Harry, I didn't even know you was comin' back to Hogwarts." A pang of guilt rang through Harry. He really had forgotten to tell Hagrid about his return. Harry spent a large part of his time repressing anything related to Hogwarts or Voldemort since the Battle of Hogwarts. He was diligent about recovering.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Hagrid," Harry apologized. "It just slipped my mind. I've been focused on, er, other things. Giving Hogwarts a bit of a rest..."

"Oh, don' worry 'bout me, Harry. Jus' try to have a good year." And with that, Hagrid gave them a final wink and turned back to directing the first years.

"Harry, Ginny, come on!" he heard Hermione yell. The couple walked back to Ron and Hermione. He quickly told them about running into Hagrid, and the four of them entered the front doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

After getting settled in the Great Hall, all the students were restlessly awaiting the beginning of the sorting ceremony. First years were huddled up at the front, while the older students arranged themselves at their house tables. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were seated towards the front, but not too close. Hermione had made a comment earlier about protecting Harry. She was worried he'd be bothered by everyone, and bombarded with questions. What Harry was focused on at present was a nasty comment made by a Ravenclaw walking between the isles.

"All the Gryffindors sit there with a chip on their shoulder, as if we all didn't fight in that bloody battle. Every house participated, but the Gryffindors are the ones who take credit."

It was an older girl. Maybe a sixth year? Harry hadn't known her personally, but her pudgy face and clear glasses were familiar. "Oh, don't listen to them, Harry" Hermione said. He hadn't realized she'd caught the comment, too.

"I just don't want to be reminded of it all the time," Harry said. He looked down and fiddled with the scarlet table runner. Ron thumped his back, but didn't say anything. Ginny was too busy talking to her friends to have heard the comment. Something about the way Ginny was eating up the socialization and eyes on her rubbed him the wrong way. Over the summer, she had told Harry that maybe he should start feeling flattered by all of it. After all, he was the Chosen One, and he had lived. She acted as if defeating Voldemort was his claim to fame, rather than his life-or-death task. Ginny, who was pure and strong, refused to give anymore of her tears towards Voldemort's doings.

"Attention, students" McGonagall said. "We are about to begin the sorting ceremony, if you could please give your attention to the Sorting Hat, we may start at once."

The raggedy hat was placed on the same stool as always. What began as a flat, boring hat suddenly revealed its face. After what sounded like it clearing its throat (if hats even had throats?) it began:

Our Hogwarts kin

We will begin

To sort our youngest friends;

For I am the Sorting Hat,

I put your worries to an end.

This castle is historic

Its people are heroic,

What once was a site of blood that spilled

Has again become re-built.

Four houses stood to fight for us

And in the end, we won.

Four houses stand before all ye

So let's find where you belong.

Will you be in Hufflepuff,

The diligent, happy lot?

Their loyalty and work ethic

Make them a great spot.

Or will you be in Ravenclaw,

With the brightest wizard's you ever saw?

Their intelligence and cleverness

Sets them up for success.

Still there are more options,

More houses you may belong.

Like Slytherin, the snake-eyed stars,

Whose cunning minds make them strong.

Pure in blood and powerful,

This house is surely never dull.

Lastly we have Gryffindor,

The house of wit and strength.

Their bravery is unmatched

They've saved this castle's fate.

Once again, I will sort ye

To the house that you belong.

I read your mind, so rest assured

I couldn't sort you wrong.

The castle erupted into applause at the Sorting Hat's song. Ron and Harry were whooping as loud as they could while Hermione and Ginny laughed and yelled themselves.

"Accult, Amelia" McGonagall said once the hall quieted. A small girl walked forward. She sat happily on the stool and the headmistress placed the hat on her head.

"Hmmm," the hat said quietly. "Ought to be... RAVENCLAW!" The hall again burst out in cheers, mostly coming from the Ravenclaw table.

"Shame," Ginny said. She smiled at Harry and winked.

McGonagall went through several more names. So far, Gryffindor added Alvin, Patrick, Beau, Alivia, Bunson, Eliza, and Caldwell, Jensen to their house. The eleven year olds were swimming in their robes but seemed ecstatic to be here. One of them, Eliza Bunson, kept stealing glances at Harry. It made him awkward so he angled his body more towards his friends.

"Mate, look at the professor's table," Ron said, motioning with his hand. Harry looked up and scanned. He saw many familiar faces, and quite a few new ones. Professor Slughorn was still up there. Harry supposed he was to teach potions. He saw a professor he didn't recognize at all, sitting where Professor Mcgonagall used to sit. Could this be the new Head of Gryffindor House? Now that he thought about it, Slytherin House needed a new head as well. The students were about to meet the new Defense against the Dark Arts and Transformation teachers, he thought.

The woman in Professor McGonagall's old spot was very pretty. She had straight, very shiny black hair and a soft angelic face. Harry couldn't help but wonder if she was even old enough to teach here. She had bright blue eyes that contrasted her hair, and her skin was olive and warm.

A boring looking man was in Professor Severus Snape's old spot. It hurt Harry too much to look where Snape should have been, so he didn't get a good look. All he knew was that the new guy had dirty blonde hair and a stain on his cloak. He had wire glasses that made his eyes seem over large as well.

Once the last student, Zillia, Makenna was sorted into Slytherin, McGonagall made her way to the podium again. She made a candid speech about the spirit of progress and the essence of magic that Harry tuned out most of. He was sure it was good though, judging by everyone else's reactions and the atmosphere he felt. He even saw the Hogwarts ghosts and Peeves the Poltergeist nod their heads in respect and agreement. What caught his attention was McGonagall's voice saying it was time for "introductions in an age of new beginning."

"Miss Penelope Hart," she said, motioning to the pretty witch. "Our new professor of Magical Combat and Defense, which was formerly known as Defense against the Dark Arts, as well as Head of my own house, Gryfinndor." She paused for claps and cheers from the Gryfinndor table before continuing. "Professor Hart has studied at the Academy of Magical Defense in Colombia, and interned with the Department of Strategic Magical Combat in the Magical Congress of the United States of America before she went on to shadow magical professors at Ilvermorny school. She moved to London a few years ago and we're lucky to have her." McGonagall's face was glowing, like she personally plucked the needle out of a metaphorical haystack.

Professor Hart stood up and looked over the crowd of students. "Come to me with any questions," she said. Her voice was warm and soft. "I travel a lot, I go back and forth from here to London to see my wife. And yes, I did attend Hogwarts as a little girl. I didn't graduate here, but I spent years 1-3 here before moving to Colombia with my family. I have lots of experience and would love to talk to you."

"Yes, of course. We're very excited for you, Miss Hart." McGonagall said again, smiling. "Next, let's welcome Professor Noah Hobb, head of Slytherin House, and our new Transfiguration Expert." The lines around her mouth were tight, Harry noticed. He never thought McGonagall would give up being the Transfiguration teacher, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and McGonagall was the perfect replacement for Dumbledore. She went from being interim Headmistress to a permanent installment a few weeks after the Battle.

She continued, "Mr. Hobb is a Hogwarts graduate, published in peer-reviewed magical journals, and has a book on Transfiguration in the 21st Century.

The man awkwardly raised a hand then sat down, not paying much attention to the hall of students ogling him. Not too long after, the tables filled with a feast to top all feasts. Harry had never seen so many options, even at Hogwarts. He and Ron immediately started grabbing at the goodies in front of them. This food tasted like home. It seemed that every Hogwarts students was gorging themselves until they were left in a sleepy, stuffed coma.

When the students started filing out, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a handful of other eighth year students (including Draco Malfoy) waited back for the headmistress to show them their new home. Draco was all alone, walking by himself on the staircases and across the halls. His minions, Crabbe and Goyle, were gone. Goyle died in the Battle of Hogwarts, trying to hurt Harry and stop him from getting the horcrux in the room of requirement. Vincent Crabbe simply hadn't returned, Harry later learned. He was sick of school, which Harry thought odd, considering he never actually participated in classes. Pansy Parkinson was Draco's last friend, but even she was nowhere to be found.

When they reached a lavish corridor, McGonagall turned to them and said "pair off. You're adults, we feel you can decide amongst yourselves who to live with. The rooms are suite style, so there's a bedroom with two beds connected to a bathroom that will be shared with another bedroom with two beds. A lobby and living area are available as well." Pair off, Harry thought. Ron looked at him awkwardly. Harry didn't want to be responsible for making Ron choose between his best friend and his girlfriend. But he wouldn't know who else to live with. His second pick would be Hermione, and she was going to be with Ron! If only Ginny had been the same year as him, then she could be his roommate.

"Go on," Harry said to them, trying to come off as genuine. "I'll get the neighboring suite with whoever..." he looked around. Dean and Seamus paired off. Neville wasn't here, Luna was younger than Harry as well. Everybody else had cowered away from or bullied Harry his whole life. He hesitated too long, because before he knew it, only one git was left.

Draco Malfoy had anxiously looked around when the headmistress told them to pair off. Draco hadn't any friends, and he sure as hell wasn't going to make any new ones. This year his mother forced him to return to Hogwarts. She told him that it's his best shot. "Nobody will want to hire a Malfoy anymore, so don't give them more reason by not having a proper education." He needed that Hogwarts degree. He argued, saying his talent could speak for itself, but when Narcissa Malfoy looked at him and said "Draco, we've lost everything. My sister. Your father. Everything. Please, just don't make it worse" he realized how bad his situation actually was.

He had walked over to a meager looking boy and asked if they could room. The boy shook his head no without even giving an explanation. Nobody wants to be friends with a traitor... Draco thought. Hadn't they known he risked his life to save Harry? Just to give Hogwarts a fighting chance? He crossed lines, in the end. Papers slandered the Malfoy name all summer, framing Lucius as a traitor (fair enough) and Narcissa and Draco as cowards for leaving the Battle. The press even went as far as applauding the Malfoy family for losing his aunt Bellatrix. He never really liked her, but still...

After swallowing his pride and being rejected by a fellow eighth year, he shoved his pale fists in his pockets and waited for whoever was left. Unfortunately for Draco, the only one left was the absolute last person he wanted to room with.

"Oh, my..." McGonagall said when she realized the unfortunate luck. "Is there any last-minute changes you'd like to make." Her eyes flitted around the crowd as she tried to gently remedy the situation. Of course, nobody wanted to switch. Harry Potter was practically a bad luck charm, and everyone was pretty sure Draco Malfoy would trade your organs for cursed objects. Draco thought about Harry's attempt at kindness on the Hogwarts Express earlier. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. After all, there was a reason that Draco risked his life for Harry. Maybe Potter wouldn't be so insufferable this year. Nobody should have any more reason to call him the Chosen One, which really got under Draco's skin.

Harry on the other hand was thinking of different maneuvers to get out of it. If he talked to McGonagall she'd say nothing could be done... he couldn't stow away in Ron and Hermione's room all the time, but he could most of the time. He just couldn't bear to think of rooming with Draco flipping Malfoy for his final year at Hogwarts. Draco was a constant reminder of all the bad things the boys had been through. But then again, Harry supposed that meant Draco was the one person who could relate the most...

Eighth Year - Drarry Fic

Part One:

           Harry woke up to the smell of bacon and the soft coos of Pigwidgeon. It had been months now that he could wake up relaxed, easing into the routine of the Weasleys. After all he'd been through, the consistency felt nice. He stretched his arms and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before putting on his glasses and blinking the world into a sharp image. Glancing around the room, he noticed that Ron was already awake, given his bed was an empty lump of sheets. This was the first time all summer that Ron had gotten up before Harry, and he suspected it was due to the occasion – their return to Hogwarts.

Harry and his best friends had honestly not been anticipating living through the war, but eventually they stopped being able to dodge the question of what comes next. Harry had immediately been offered a job as an auror following Voldemort's downfall, and Ron thought he was going to land some job at the Ministry. It was Hermione that proposed the trio go back to schooling.

"If you think about it, we've only completed six years," she'd said. The two boys, her boys, were still in a post-war stupor then, not willing to dwell on their days at Hogwarts quite yet.

"Hermione," Ron said, through a mouthful of lunch, "we're 18 now. We're too old for Hogwarts. Besides, what can they teach us that we don't already know?"

"Lots of things, Ronald," Hermione said with a stubborn edge in her voice. "After all the insanity that happened, we deserve a chance to be normal students." She looked at Harry for defense, but he was too stunned with the flood of emotion to say anything, so she continued. "Refinement. New spells. New potions. You're never too old to learn. Besides, after Voldemort's downfall, they're bound to teach students differently. The whole curriculum will be different and I don't want to miss out!"

Harry's breath hitched imperceptibly when Hermione said Voldemort's name. Not because he was scared – he hadn't been scared of saying Voldemort's name in years – but because Hermione said it so boldly. In a way, it was comforting. It served as another reminder that he really was gone.

When he looked up, he caught Hermione's gaze. She had a sparkle in her eye talking about Hogwarts and the idea of going back. He mulled over the thought of an eighth year, and after a bit of a back and forth with Ron, they eventually had decided to enroll at Hogwarts one last time.

He walked into the bright kitchen as he did every morning. Ginny walked over to Harry and pecked him on the cheek. "Morning sweetheart," she sang. Ginny was offended when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had asked her if she'd be returning. She practically yelled that obviously she was, then insisted the conversation end there. That was something that always impressed Harry about his fiery girlfriend – her unabashed way of standing up for herself. It was a skill she grew into over the past few years, and it made Harry's heart skip a beat every time she'd stride over to him and grab him boldly by the shoulders to plant a kiss on his mouth.

Ron was sitting on the counter, leaning his chin onto Hermione's head, who was standing between his legs. His hands carelessly rested at her hip. When Hermione lifted her gaze from the morning's issue of The Daily Prophet, she gave Harry a soft smile.

"Oy, Harry!" Ron exclaimed with a bit of devilish excitement. "We made the paper!"

Harry looked surprise, and grabbed it from Hermione's hands.

"Hey!" she quipped.

"Sorry," Harry muttered as he thumbed through the black and white pages and moving pictures. He came across the article Ron was talking about. Golden Trio Start Final Term at Hogwarts – Again! the paper read. Harry rolled his eyes. He shoved the paper back at Hermione and sat down, not wanting to read what it said. He had hoped that defeating Voldemort would be the end to his fame. He thought he'd be able to settle down with Ginny and live a nice life in peace.

"The Golden Trio," Harry said, "I mean, c'mon." The nickname referred to him, Hermione, and Ron, and was becoming a popular phrase around Britain.

"At least they're finally getting recognition," he heard Ginny lament. And he knew she was right. For so long it had been Harry vs. the world, so some solidarity felt nice.

"It's just cheesy," he said as he chomped on a piece of bacon.

Harry watched different Weasleys float in and out of the kitchen as the morning progressed. He was definitely going to miss it here. The Weasleys were the family he never had but always wanted. The way they absorbed and protected people like him and Hermione was what made them some of his favorite people. All summer he'd gotten to know the eldest Weasley children, too. Bill, and his wife Fleur decided to travel around the world for a while after the Battle of Hogwarts, and in-between each trip they'd spend a couple weeks with their family. Charlie moved back home for a while too, before agreeing (or being bullied into) getting a flat with Percy. But Percy had proved to be so insufferable, that Charlie visited enough to make it seem as if he'd never left. He'd come in, flopping onto the couch and complaining about "our tight-ass prat of a brother, lecturing me about chores and informing me about the inner-workings of the Ministry."

It was hard for Charlie to walk back into life at the Weasleys because he'd been in Romania so long. Charlie was an independent. He refused to be reined in. He wore all black all the time, painted his nails, and sometimes sported a dangly earring. He'd even had a secret tattoo on his back of a dragon breathing fire. It was charmed so that the dragon flew around between his shoulder blades.

But besides the commentary on his style choices, Charlie struggled with Percy's betrayal and Fred's death. They all did, of course, but besides George and Mrs. Weasley, Charlie seemed to have the most grief. He wished he had never gone to Romania, he confessed to Harry one night when he was wine drunk. Harry told him he didn't mean it, but Charlie insisted and tears welled in his eyes. That was the first time Harry had ever thought any boy was pretty. The way the grief bubbled up into his face like a delicate thing Charlie wasn't used to after having spent so long with gritty dragons stood out.

It was with Charlie that Harry opened up to about his nerves returning to Hogwarts. About how sad it made him, in a way. It wasn't the Hogwarts he fell in love with at age 11. This was a post-war Hogwarts, where Dumbledore and Snape and Lupin and Fred would never step foot in again. It's where he faced Voldemort for the last time, and where so many people had died. He wanted so desperately to relive the magic of boating across the lake and McGonagall smiling at him when he'd been sorted Gryffindor. He wanted the stupid late-night adventures with Ron and Hermione. He wanted the Hogwarts that didn't put him in peril.

McGonagall was now the headmaster, and it was she who permitted the Golden Trio to return for a final year. She said it was her duty as an educator to allow them the full extent of a Hogwarts Education, but Harry suspected she'd had a soft spot for them. When Hermione sent her an owl, she'd told McGonagall that the three of them needed accommodations of sorts, since they would not be the typical students. McGonagall's reply came the next day. She was in agreement that matriculation would be different, and that they could expect any resources for maintaining optimal mental health, first pick of class schedule, access to a special dormitory that was being built for eighth year students, and the promise to negotiate any other contingencies. She also offered them enrollment in a new class taught by an incoming professor for those with advanced skill in combative magic and magical defense. She included that what they should NOT expect was leniency in grading, pity, special privileges, or any other pish posh of the sort.

Ron and Harry were immediately thrilled, but Hermione pouted.

"I'm writing back," she had said.

"Why?" Harry questioned as she furiously scribbled with a fresh quill.

"Because I want to be re-instated as Head Girl," Hermione said, "and I want access to the restricted section of the library."

Ron laughed warmly from his chest. "Tell her, love." In the end, Hermione (mostly) got her way. McGonagall said that she could co-Head Girl, but giving her the sole title would be unfair to the incoming student. Additionally, the restricted section of the library would soon be rid of all dangerous dark magic books and then open to all students with approval from the librarian.

It seemed so soon after Harry's discovery of the headline of the news that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room saying that it was time for them to get going to King's Cross. The lot of them set off in just as much of a messy haste as ever.

Walking into King's Cross was surreal. Arthur and Molly were the first to press through the brick wall to get to Platform 9 and three quarters. Following them was Charlie, followed closely by Percy, then Ron and Hermione. Harry stood with Ginny's hand wrapped in his. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against her fingers.

"Ready for the Hogwarts Express?" Ginny said, eyes twinkling. Harry raised her hand to his lips and kissed it before saying of course. Ginny rushed through with zero fear. She disappeared in a flash of red hair.

After Harry dipped through he found the platform to be more familiar than he thought it would be. The dozens of families wrapping their kids in their arms made him smile almost as much as the youngins waving with their heads poking out through the windows. In a way he felt too old to be going back to school, but in a different, more prominent way, he felt the excitement and potential of Hogwarts filling him.

The train was smooth as it started speeding down the tracks. Ginny was waving goodbye to her brothers and parents, and Ron and Hermione were talking in quiet voices. Harry didn't want to interrupt, so he decided after a while to go explore the cabins and search for some familiar faces. Now that he thought about it, he realized all summer he'd just assumed he and his best friends were the only eighth years returning to Hogwarts, but he didn't actually know.

Before long he had traipsed up and down several cabins, seeing nobody from his original class. He was about to give up when a long shimmer of blonde, wavy hair caught his attention. He rushed up to the girl and plopped down in front of her.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Luna said in a sweet voice. "How are you?" She spoke softly just as she always had, like nothing changed.

"I'm fine, Luna, and you?" He paused for a moment before continuing. "It is so good to see you. Hermione and Ron are here as well."

She smiled widely. "That's lovely!" she said. "Are you lot staying in the new dormitory? It's a small one near where the bridge used to be. You know, the one Seamus blew up?" her wide eyes bore into him. Harry had a painful jolt when she talked about the destruction from the Battle of Hogwarts, but nodded and smiled through it.

"Oy, is Neville here?" he said.

"No," Luna said nonchalantly. "He's been given a job at a magical plant greenhouse. He really loves it. He brings my dad and me organic dirigible fruit and all sorts of magical plants to snack on. He says the mulch helps his head stay clear." The way Luna talked was as if she was reporting information. Which made sense, Harry thought, consider her dad was a journalist with his own magazine. "Harry," Luna said, snapping him out of his thoughts, "remember to sweep for nargles. They've really been prominent this year." She flipped her pink and blue glasses down from her forehead and gave him another wide smile.

"Sure thing, Luna" Harry said as he stood up. "We'll get lunch sometime." His mind was still with Luna when he ran into the last person he wanted to see.

Draco Malfoy was staring Harry down.

Why I hate God

Why I hate God

God corrupts. The very construct of a God is meant to brainwash people into a boring, homologous gel. Thou shalt follow this old ass wizard who is very bossy and has entitlement issues. And yes I do mean wizard, it is the only word I find appropriate for some man we’ve never seen or heard who has invisible influence on millions.

Religion in its orthodox form cannot exist. By definition humanity can have only one absolute truth, and the idea that there are several religions ( Muslim, Christian, Catholic, polytheistic, etc) negates the premise of a divine truth. Not to mention that religions in the same sect have different bibles, the written truth. If one has documented truth and so does the other, and the words don’t align, then who’s right? My guess is nobody. At best, the Bible is one very long and intricate game of telephone.

For the sake of brevity I’m going to stick to Christianity and Catholicism. Which, granted, I don’t know much about, but I’ve known enough to form a meaningful opinion. My whole life these denominations have only hurt people. I’ve walked into a church and seen pamphlets spreading hate. Seems contradictory to what this wizard man supposedly preaches. White Christians love to shout that God loves his children, but only when they fit into a very specific mold, and if you aren’t willing to change, apparently you’re going to hell. Don’t get me wrong there are other versions of religion that are almost comforting,even to such a die hard atheist like myself, like that God does want love and happiness. God doesn’t care about your decisions. God just is a support, or comfort, and I think people need that, but when people devote their whole existence to God, an unknown, unproven being, I think it’s sick. I want people to think for themselves, to do good because they want to not because they want god to accept them or to find or be grateful for salvation. I believe acts of kindness should come from an internal and solitary desire. I do good because I’ve been dealt so much bad and that has no connection to god. If anything, this almighty god should have spread luck and happiness more evenly. And no, there’s not a reason that can’t happen, if god wanted to make a utopia we’d have one.

I also have concluded that being religious does not make you a good person. Some of the worst people I know are devout, with cross tattoos and a bad attitude. I’ve known people who pray everyday for greed and claim to their god that they spread love, when in reality they finish and smoke weed and rob stores, some distinctly un-neighborly tasks. I’ve known Christians who tell me I’m going to hell and pity me because I don’t accept their religion which seems very white supremacy-y in a very uncomfortable way.

I don’t like the concept of anyone approving or disapproving of my relationship or job or status based on what some crusty book says. I think the world would be so much more genuine and happy without religion.

God was not there for me when my grand father killed him self. God was not in the soul of my father when he screamed and hit and manipulated. God was not looking out for children that got hit by cars or families that have loss. God is a sham. I hate God. He is a fake comfort for those too desperate and weak to find strength in themselves.

“Unrequited and Unwanted”

“what it’s really like to lose you”

-Isabelle Echevarria 

“A Real LGBTQ”

-Isabelle Echevarria

-Isabelle Echevarria

NANOWRIMO POST 1

I carved your pedestal out of marble

as beautiful and resilient as you

I helped you climb to your perch

and shaped myself into the steps you dug your boots into

heel to bone, heel to bone

my spine was your boost.

Your mouth was filled with poison

and dripped with callous cruelty

Your bitter breath made my ears welt.

When I finally looked into your eyes

after years of abiding servitude

I heard you for the first time

My spine shifted; it no longer bowed into steps for you;

It straightened

I felt

nothing.

The second I turned my back

you fell

you plummeted

you collided with the floor

and your pedestal dropped behind you

marble cracking over concrete

This is your fall from the pedestal

This is the release of fear

This is you breaking