The Delicate Scent of a Flower.



"It only happens to the best." That is the story of my life.



My parents met at Hogwarts, and married the year they graduated. They were both at the top of their class. My mother had beautiful green eyes and brown curly hair, while my father had jet black hair and brown eyes. I was later told that you could see the love that flowed between them. They had shown happiness and joy, despite the time of fear.



Before I was born, I was supposed to be my parents' pride and joy. But that was never meant to be. My mother, sweet, gentle Kayla, died while bringing me into the world.



My father was heart-broken, but he never showed that to me. In the first years of my life, my father would tuck me in every night, hum a lullaby, and tell me about my mother, and her deeds at school. Just before he would close the door, he would turn around, and tell me not to fear, that nothing would happen to me. I would never understand why he was so nervous. What did he think could happen? He would also tell me that one day, I would see better times.



But he would never live to see them. When I was six years old, he got very sick. He was taken to St. Mungo's, and I was taken to live with my grandma, my mother's mother. One night, a week after my father had become ill; I was taken to see him. He was pale and weak, but somehow he managed to smile at me. He had taken my hand, and quietly, very quietly, he whispered to me. "You look just like her, Iris. Exactly like your mother. There is just one thing missing; a smile. It never left her lips. I just want one thing from you. Be happy, smile. Give the world a little joy, in these dark times. Give to people; spread what you have, because you are a flower, and flowers smell lovely for everyone, not just the people they love." And then he died, just like that.



I was taken back to Grandma's. I cried the entire way. I wanted to stay with Father! But it was to no avail. I was not allowed to see my father.



Very few people came to the funeral. They were too afraid of being hit by Lord Voldemort. They said that large groups were more obvious targets. What people did come, came over to Grandma and I and told us how sorry they were, and how it only happened to the best. I had heard people say that to father when they got tidings of my Mother's death. The thought of Father brought the tears back. I ran inside and refused to go back out.



If only my father could have lived two months more. Then he would have been with me on my seventh birthday, and he would have witnessed the downfall of the Dark Lord in the hands of one-year-old Harry Potter. But even the joy of everyone around did not cheer me up. I don't think a smile ever touched my lips for the following four years. The next time it did was when I got my Hogwarts letter. I was happy that I was going to be able to get away from that house, which contained too many memories.



So, September 1st, I was off. I only looked back at the house once as Grandma and I began walking to the station, which was right by the house. As soon as we got passed the barrier I began walking towards the train. Only one word kept flashing through my head as I walked; Exit. Right before I walked onto the train I turned and gave grandma a small smile. It seemed to make her day. It felt good to do something good for someone. My father's words flashed through my mind. 'Not only the people they love…' I shook my head and walked onto the train. I ended up sitting in the same compartment as Charlie Weasley. We didn't talk much. I don't know his reasons, but I was suddenly hit with immense sadness. I guess it was the thought of Father that did it.



Once we were at school there was the Sorting. I was Sorted into Gryffindor. So was Charlie. Rose Ivory and Alex Moss came along for the ride. Rose and Alex were already good friends. I can still remember the look on Rose's face when the Hat shouted Gryffindor. It was a look of utter relief and joy. Alex just looked relieved that he was in the same House as Rose. He's Muggle-born, so he didn't know much about the Houses. With Charlie it just seemed the most obvious thing in the world; after all, his brother was in Gryffindor.



I was neutral. I was happy that I was in the same house that my parents had been in. But the feeling of sadness pursued me.



The sadness continued for a week. But after a week, I had a dream. In it, I saw my father on his death bed. I heard him tell me to be happy, and to spread the joy. When I awoke in the morning I was changed. There was no point in being sad over Father if it would just make him sad. I never wanted to hurt. I looked over at Rose. I had barely ever talked to her (or anyone) but I suddenly had an urge to talk to her. I went over to her. I slowly began a conversation. I hadn't really had a conversation in years. The conversation with Rose helped.



I began taking control over my life. I started talking. I started smiling. I started gaining friends. The second friend I had was Charlie. He was a sweet blend of carefree and responsible. We had, and still do, have great times together, without getting into too much trouble. Years passed by, and I was finally growing accustomed to being happy. Then came that awful day; yesterday. I got a letter reporting Grandma's death. I don't know if I can stand this. I have no-one left in the world aside from my friends. I'm going to go to the funeral today. But what will happen after that? Summer holidays are a week away. Fifth year is almost over. Where am I going to go? All my hopes lie on my friends; they are the only ones who can cheer me up. I'm afraid of losing connections with this world again. I'm not sure I will be able to continue spreading a delicate scent of joy through this world.



That is why I am writing this diary. Maybe I will be able to stay happy by spilling out all my sadness onto a page.



Until later,



Iris Decor