Hi. I'm Jason. Jason Potter. Brother to the Boy Who Lived. The Vanquisher of Voldemort. Don't flinch! He's dead, well everyone thinks that anyway. They think that I'm the Boy Who Lived. I don't believe it, simply because I was there. How about I tell you my life story from up to now?

I used to be normal. I was born, and at first my parents thought I was an only child. Then twenty minutes later my brother, my best friend, came. He was small and sickly, and he had to stay at the hospital for another week before he was declared well enough to come home. I was glad, I had to go home with Dad whilst Harry stayed at the hospital with Mum. I felt like I constantly needed to be near him, needed to touch him, to make sure he is alive. After that we got our godfathers. I got Uncle Remus, and Harry got Uncle Sirius. I admit, I was jealous, before Sirius showed that he would give both of us attention, same with Remus. Harry was always the shy, little baby who would get teased. He would cry, and the bullies would bully him further. I'm the one one who helps him, even when we were younger. Even before the incident happened.

At one mention of the incident, the room goes quiet. Some people look at one another sadly, and the rest mourn our babysitter.

It was a cold, dark night when it happened. Mum and Dad had to go for an Order meeting, even if it meant leaving us behind. For some reason (my parents haven't told Harry and I yet) Voldemort was looking for us, trying to kill us. Now, I suppose Mum and Dad are quite powerful, and Voldemort knew that they wouldn't join his side, so he would kill them instead. Or maybe he wanted to kill me and Harry, and let the powerful descendants from the legendary Lily and James Potter not be harmful for him anymore. I'm not sure what happened that night, no one is, but everyone knows that late at night, whilst Mum and Dad were at an Order meeting, Voldemort turned up at Godrics Hollow.

Harry was giggling at colourful bubbles that our babysitter was conjuring. Suddenly a loud knock sounded on the door. Mrs Figg (our babysitter) went and looked through a spy hole that Mum and Dad put in in case someone knocked on the door and we wanted to check. Mrs Figg checked and nothing was there. She made some more bubbles to keep Harry and I entertained (which only worked for Harry, I was more interested in what was going on around us) and looked at the spy hole again, and gasped. She quickly propped Harry on her hip and me and on her other hip and ran upstairs, putting us in our cot. We always shared one, Harry got scared because he had nightmares. For some reason, if I was there, he'd calm down and just snuggle against me, and I had to deal with the uncomfortable position for the rest of the night. I'm used to it now, but then it was awful. Harry was clinging to me like mad, Mum and Dad couldn't get him off me. Now, we sleep in the same bed, it's rather strange. Well, on with the story.

We heard the main door fall flat against the floor, and I supposed it had been forced open by magic. Mrs Figg ran and got some chairs, then propped them up against the door. It was no use. We heard stomping coming up the stairs, and then all the stuff propped up against the door was blown apart. A snake-faced man came in, and whispered, "Where's Mummy and Daddy gone? Have they left their children to the big bad man? Or are they busy? No matter. Well, Figg, what do you choose? Your own life, or theirs?" Mrs Figg didn't answer, but stood in front of our cot. Harry was crying silently, but sitting up, trying to protect me as well as he can. I, of course, shoved him out of the way, after all, I was the older brother, if anyone had to protect him it would be me. Then, we heard those fated words, with Voldemort's wand pointed at Mrs Figg. 'Avada Kedavra'. Then she was gone. After that, Harry shoved me out of the way and looked determinedly at Voldemort, not caring if he was going to get killed. Voldemort looked at each of us, wondering which was stronger, I suppose. I wish he had chosen me. But he didn't.

He used a spell, I can't recall which, and decided Harry was stronger. He pointed his wand at him and said, 'Avada Kedavra'. Harry slumped in his cot, with a lightning scar on his forehead. I was terrified, I thought he died. The strange thing is, after he said that spell, his cloak fell to the floor, and this weird figure appeared. It wasn't human, but it wasn't like anything I had seen before. There was a loud scream, before silence. Then the house caved in, and I got hit on the arm with some rubble. I cried out, before letting the darkness take me.

I don't remember much after that. I think we went to St. Mungos to see if me and Harry were alright. They said that Harry was alive, and I was amazed. I had seen Voldemort shoot the killing curse at him, and saw Harry slumped in his cot. I guess the killing curse shot at Voldemort somehow, seeing as he kinda died. I had the letter V on my arm, from the rubble that fell on me. Dumbledore said that I was the boy who lived. I didn't believe it, Harry was the one Voldemort shot the spell at. Harry was the one who made the curse shoot back at Voldemort. And Harry was the one whose curse was caused because of Dark Magic.

Some people say that I'm intelligent for my age. I guess I am, I'm only six, but I do know the meaning of intelligence. I look like my Mother, but I have more traits of my father. I have smooth, red hair, hazel/green eyes and the build of a Quidditch player. I enjoy reading, but I prefer Quidditch more. I play pranks, but only on people I dislike. Wait, let me correct that. I play pranks, but only play the major ones on people I dislike. If I were to give someone my lunch and say it were 'amazingly tasty' but it was actually dung in disguise, I would give it to someone I dislike. On the other hand, if I were to give someone a sweet and say it was a 'fake chocolate frog' when really it's really a sweet that makes you laugh a lot, then I'd give it to my friends, family or Sirius and Remus. I've never played a prank on Harry. He's really delicate, and sickly, though don't tell him I said that! When he was about four, Dad taught me how to play Quidditch, and he begged to let Dad teach him too. He was on his knees, being as adorable as he could possibly be. He did the puppy eyes, and Dad said, every single word, "SIRIUS!! I TOLD YOU THAT HE WOULD USE THE PUPPY EYES
AGAINST ME!!". It was quite funny, actually. Sirius wasn't even there.

Well, Harry wants to play Quidditch, so I'll be back, bye.

Hey, hey, hey people! It's me, RomioneAndHinny. This story has been plaguing me for ages, and I literally had to write one sentence to finish it 😂. Bye, peeps!

-RomioneAndHinny