The Brothers Black

Chapter 2

Today is August 31, 1975. My 14th birthday.

It's been four years since James left for his first year at Hogwarts. A lot has happened. 

A lot has changed.

I didn't get to go to Hogwarts that next fall like I was supposed to. In fact, I never did. I would be starting my fourth year this September, too. 

It wasn't too long after James left that I started getting sick. It wasn't much at first. I would just get really tired and have to rest in bed. A few months later, the headaches started. And the fever. And the cough. And the chills. Soon, I would have to stay in bed for days at a time, too tired to go outside or even get up. 

St. Mungo's Hospital diagnosed me soon after with a rare disease known as hyperaguitis, a variant of the magical illness known as ague. It wasn't contagious, but it certainly was virulent.

Treatment potions became my only aid to the throbbing headaches and constant fever. Despite promises from my healers that I could live a semi-normal life, I almost always felt sick. For a disease with no cure, I had to to be close enough to St. Mungo's to quickly reach my healer if I needed. 

So, no school.

No Hogwarts. 

This was a huge blow to me and my family. As hard as it was for me to process the initial shock, it pained my parents just as much to see important parts of my life taken away from me. 

I had insisted that we waited until James got home from school to tell him about my sickness. I just couldn't bear having to relay the news through a letter, but the look on his face when we told him in person was worse than anything I could have expected.

James was as sympathetic as he could be, but he really didn't know what to do or say. My inherent affection toward him remained, but I started to feel jealous about how everything was working out for him and not me. The day he went back for his second year at Hogwarts was one of the worst days of my life. I was almost grateful that I was on bedrest because watching him leave from Kings Cross would have been more than I can bear.

Eventually, however, we fell into a rhythm of our new normal. James went to Hogwarts, I stayed home. I helped Mum with tending the house and Dad with his work. We did homeschool together, and they did the best they could to make it fun for me. Mum and Dad became good teachers, but I like to do most of my learning on my own. I can practice all the spells I want, read all I want, and grow all the things I want. Mum and Dad noticed my fascination for gardening in Herbology class and they helped me cultivate a garden of my own in our backyard. It's full of wormwood and mandrakes and wiggentrees and more. I love it more than anything.

I always enjoy the summers, when James comes home and I don't feel as sick. We practice quidditch all day in the backyard and our little cottage feels a bit bigger. 

This summer, James has been especially excited for his 5th year. Some daft Gryffindors elected him Quidditch Captain and he will not shut up about it. He has spent the entire summer either furiously plotting to win the Cup or explaining his elaborate pranks to anyone that will listen. Mum has tried everything, but he will not focus on his school work. With the amount of trouble he gets into at Hogwarts, I'm surprised she still lets him come home in the summers.

I, on the other hand, love hearing him talk about his slightly-against-the-rules experiences at Hogwarts. When he gets off the train at the beginning of every summer, it's like getting a new library full of stories to be told. After a few years, I stopped feeling jealous about all the fun he was having, and accepted my stagnant fate. Now I'm captivated by every detail of his adventures. I like to close my eyes and pretend it's me, running through the halls after executing an extravagant prank.