1 001 Hello, my name is...

Harry Potter, I heard that name so much. A boy the same age as me, and who was able to defeat "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". His parents died and mine were tortured until they forgot everything, even me. We both have this in common. Our families suffered by the hand of the same person, directly or indirectly.

Sometimes I think I'm luckier than Harry because my parents are still alive. Although they do not remember that I am their son, I can still visit them, talk to them when they are psychologically healthy, and I can still hug them. Other times I think it would be better if they did not suffer so much until today. I have never seen them when they are in crisis. Usually, my grandmother only takes me to visit them when they are healthy, but I've heard some nurses whispering about the crises, and how sad it was to see.

I swore to myself that I will find a cure for my parents. But the reality is cruel.

My grandmother tried to teach me several simple spells, but I could never do any. Whenever I failed he reminded me that Harry Potter defeated "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" even when wearing diapers. One day I heard my grandmother talking to her friends that I could be a squib, I do not know what that is, but by the facial expression my grandmother did, it must be a horrible thing.

Unlike Harry Potter, I'm not good at magic. To be precise, I'm horrible. I still remember the time I used my wand. I just rocked her for a joke and the last thing I remember was waking up in my bedroom bed. My grandmother told me that somehow I cast a spell on myself to sleep. Happy to cast my first spell every night before going to bed I tried to do it again, but I never could. I kept trying for a week until my grandmother found out. She took my wand Screaming "Your idiot you could have blown up" Well I do not know why she was exaggerating so much, but now I could have some rest from my training. The annoying thing was that she confiscated my wand.

Frustrating my hopes my grandmother continued her magic classes with more enthusiasm, but now she only gave me my wand during class. Out of 100 spells, 3 worked. Not the way it was expected, but at least it had a magic reaction.

The only spell my grandmother taught was the Lumos, but for some reason, my grandmother looked angry or happy, I can not tell for sure with so many wrinkles. More whenever I saw my grandmother's facial expression I was more afraid of being a squib. Whatever it is.

Most of the time, I only had my grandmother to talk to, even though most of the things she said were swearing. I once repeated one of his insults, but I'd rather not remember that traumatic day. Words hurt ... especially if my grandmother has a belt.

I was 9 years old and had no friends so my grandmother tried to help me make some friends, she asked one of her friends to bring her grandchildren to meet me. I'm a very shy boy so when they arrived I did not know how to act or what to say so I stayed there looking at the floor. There was a slap on the back of my head. "You're not going to introduce yourself, you idiot?" My grandmother said in a voice with a hint of anger.

rubbing the nape of the neck and pouting I looked ahead, I saw a fat boy and a girl with short hair. The girl was holding her hands in her mouth to force herself to hold back the laughter, the fat boy was looking around, probably looking for food.

"Hello, my name is Neville Longbottom," I said shyly to both of them."