Regret (the aftermath of the 5th year)
CHAPTER 1
Harry laid face down in his bed, one arm at his side, the other hanging off the side of the bed. He wasn't sleeping, just staring.over at hedwig's empty cage, he was alone. He hardly slept at all these days, because all he ever dreamt about was death.Sirius', Cedric's, his parent's, his own, but the worst part of these dreams was that at the end of all of them.it was always his fault. He'd see his friends pointing at him, looks of disgust on their faces, saying, "It's all because of you Harry, they're dead because of you." These dreams were so real, everything.even the pain, that he'd wake up screaming, and feeling so much guilt, regret and sadness, that he's wish that, that dream had been real, that he had died.
Lupin had visited Harry often since Sirius' death a month earlier. He'd take Harry different places, but mostly Diagon Alley, where they'd talk, and he'd give an update on how the Dursley's were treating him, which was like he had a deadly disease and if they came within 20 feet of him, or talked to him, they'd catch it. Lupin would laugh, but Harry would only give a weak half-smile, laughter didn't come that easily anymore. They'd come back home where Lupin would say hello to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, then he'd "accidentally" drop his wand, giving them a not so subtle reminder that he could do magic legally.
But right now the Dursley's were gone, Lupin was busy with The Order, And Harry was all alone with his thoughts, and all he could think about was how Sirius' death could have been prevented. If only he had opened that damn package when Sirius had given it to him, then he would have found the mirror, and been able to talk to him before.
Harry sat up quickly, as if the sudden movement would stop the thought. He turned his head to look at the desk drawer next to him, then reached over and rested his hand on the handle. Half of him wanted to open the drawer, the other half was yelled at him not to, but despite the second opinion he slowly began opening it, knowing full well that what was inside would only bring back bad memories, he didn't care anymore. But again he stopped himself, pulling his hand back when he had opened the drawer all the way. For a minute he just stared at the open drawer, daring himself to reach inside and pull the mirror out.
He'd kept it in there as a sort of comfort, but never looked at it because looking at it and just knowing it was there were two completely different things. When he saw it, it reminded him of the biggest mistake he's ever made, but it just being there made it feel as if Sirius were right there next to him. Slowly, he reached in, pulled out the mirror, and placed it on his lap.
He stared at his own reflection for a moment, he looked tired and worn, his hair was even more of a mess than usual, and he was starting to get bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. The stress in his life had taken its effect of Harry inside and out. But his reflection didn't bother him, he already knew how he looked, it was the fact that he was holding the mirror at all that came as sort of a shock to him. He picked it up and held it close to his face, and looked deep into it, half expecting something to pop out at him.but nothing did. "Sirius," he whispered to it, knowing there would be no response, but despite that he knew there would be no response, it angered him.
"STUPID MIRROR!!!" He yelled, then threw it across the room where the glass broke to pieces and fell to the ground with the frame. All the rage he had been suppressing seemed to break out when the glass from the mirror broke. He stood up, reached for the drawer that had held it, pulled it out of the desk and flung it across the room as well. He then tore all the sheets of his bed, pulled out the top three drawers from his dresser, ripped every poster and flag from school off his wall, and ended my slamming his fist into the wall so hard that is split open his knuckles which began to bleed profusely. He bent over with pain for a second then stood straight up and began to look at the ceiling as though he could see right through it. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes from a mixture of anger and sorrow that he'd been trying to ignore.
"What did I ever do to deserve this!" he yelled out to the nothingness, "Why does everything bad keep happening to me! I'm so tired of seeing people die, it isn't fair!!" He then buried his face in his hands and began to cry without holding back, something he had never done. " I can't take it anymore, I can't take it, I can't.I won't" I'll leave, he thought, I'll runaway from all this.
He pulled his hands away from his face and looked around the room at the mess he had made with his fury, the dent in the wall where he had struck it, then the trunk he used for school. Harry hastily began to make his was over to the trunk, maneuvering around the many objects on the floor. He then picked up the trunk, dropped it on his bed, opened it and began throwing in everything he had, which wasn't much.
But where to go, he thought, where could I go where they wouldn't look for me. Where would be the last place they'd think of searching.
***
CHAPTER 1
Harry laid face down in his bed, one arm at his side, the other hanging off the side of the bed. He wasn't sleeping, just staring.over at hedwig's empty cage, he was alone. He hardly slept at all these days, because all he ever dreamt about was death.Sirius', Cedric's, his parent's, his own, but the worst part of these dreams was that at the end of all of them.it was always his fault. He'd see his friends pointing at him, looks of disgust on their faces, saying, "It's all because of you Harry, they're dead because of you." These dreams were so real, everything.even the pain, that he'd wake up screaming, and feeling so much guilt, regret and sadness, that he's wish that, that dream had been real, that he had died.
Lupin had visited Harry often since Sirius' death a month earlier. He'd take Harry different places, but mostly Diagon Alley, where they'd talk, and he'd give an update on how the Dursley's were treating him, which was like he had a deadly disease and if they came within 20 feet of him, or talked to him, they'd catch it. Lupin would laugh, but Harry would only give a weak half-smile, laughter didn't come that easily anymore. They'd come back home where Lupin would say hello to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, then he'd "accidentally" drop his wand, giving them a not so subtle reminder that he could do magic legally.
But right now the Dursley's were gone, Lupin was busy with The Order, And Harry was all alone with his thoughts, and all he could think about was how Sirius' death could have been prevented. If only he had opened that damn package when Sirius had given it to him, then he would have found the mirror, and been able to talk to him before.
Harry sat up quickly, as if the sudden movement would stop the thought. He turned his head to look at the desk drawer next to him, then reached over and rested his hand on the handle. Half of him wanted to open the drawer, the other half was yelled at him not to, but despite the second opinion he slowly began opening it, knowing full well that what was inside would only bring back bad memories, he didn't care anymore. But again he stopped himself, pulling his hand back when he had opened the drawer all the way. For a minute he just stared at the open drawer, daring himself to reach inside and pull the mirror out.
He'd kept it in there as a sort of comfort, but never looked at it because looking at it and just knowing it was there were two completely different things. When he saw it, it reminded him of the biggest mistake he's ever made, but it just being there made it feel as if Sirius were right there next to him. Slowly, he reached in, pulled out the mirror, and placed it on his lap.
He stared at his own reflection for a moment, he looked tired and worn, his hair was even more of a mess than usual, and he was starting to get bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. The stress in his life had taken its effect of Harry inside and out. But his reflection didn't bother him, he already knew how he looked, it was the fact that he was holding the mirror at all that came as sort of a shock to him. He picked it up and held it close to his face, and looked deep into it, half expecting something to pop out at him.but nothing did. "Sirius," he whispered to it, knowing there would be no response, but despite that he knew there would be no response, it angered him.
"STUPID MIRROR!!!" He yelled, then threw it across the room where the glass broke to pieces and fell to the ground with the frame. All the rage he had been suppressing seemed to break out when the glass from the mirror broke. He stood up, reached for the drawer that had held it, pulled it out of the desk and flung it across the room as well. He then tore all the sheets of his bed, pulled out the top three drawers from his dresser, ripped every poster and flag from school off his wall, and ended my slamming his fist into the wall so hard that is split open his knuckles which began to bleed profusely. He bent over with pain for a second then stood straight up and began to look at the ceiling as though he could see right through it. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes from a mixture of anger and sorrow that he'd been trying to ignore.
"What did I ever do to deserve this!" he yelled out to the nothingness, "Why does everything bad keep happening to me! I'm so tired of seeing people die, it isn't fair!!" He then buried his face in his hands and began to cry without holding back, something he had never done. " I can't take it anymore, I can't take it, I can't.I won't" I'll leave, he thought, I'll runaway from all this.
He pulled his hands away from his face and looked around the room at the mess he had made with his fury, the dent in the wall where he had struck it, then the trunk he used for school. Harry hastily began to make his was over to the trunk, maneuvering around the many objects on the floor. He then picked up the trunk, dropped it on his bed, opened it and began throwing in everything he had, which wasn't much.
But where to go, he thought, where could I go where they wouldn't look for me. Where would be the last place they'd think of searching.
***