A new story that was inspired by the song Mad World. I have no idea where I am going with this haha

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All around me are familiar faces

The sky had clouded over and started to cry. Heavy buckets of grey tears poured down through his hair and onto his scalp. A piercing and terrified glaze encrusted both of his eyes; their colour obscured by the fury they held. His footsteps echoed in a syncopated rhythm as he made his way down the soppy sidewalk.

Left. Right. Left. Right. Puddle, sidestepped. Left. Right.

His cloak soaked up the rain like a sponge. It was heavy upon his shoulders. He didn't care in the least. His heavy, leather boots thrummed on the wet cobblestone. His jaw moved back and forth, slowly. The teeth in his mouth could be heard screaming for miles around.

Windows were decorated with flimsy pink and white paper and little hearts. He ignored it all. The door he was after was ahead. Not behind. Not to the side. Ahead. Straight ahead.

A car passed by in the street, splashing his legs with oily water from a puddle. He continued to walk.

Occasional couples walked hurriedly past him. He didn't think twice, not even once about them.

The Leaky Cauldron.

There was a warm light casted through the windows and into the street where he stood. The soft sound of pub music could be heard from the other side of that door. He opened it and walked into the smoky air of the tavern.

There were few tables open, plenty of people sat drinking and eating and conversing. He let the door slam and few looked up from their activities, though no eyes lingered long. He walked over to the bar and saw a young, stout man cleaning glasses. His red hair was long and messy. He looked up.

"Hello there, stranger. Can I help you?" He was a yank.

"What happened to Tom?" The man from the street asked; his voice cold and empty. A wide brimmed hat sat low on his forehead and a black bandana ran high on his face, leaving no view of his features.

The bartenders smile quickly fell into a sour frown. "My Uncle Tom passed a year ago." The stranger sighed.

"I'm sorry for your loss; it's been a long time since I've been here. Tom was a good man, helped me out a lot in his life time."

The bartender smiled again. "Thank you. I did love my Uncle Tom. He was a good man. Any friend of his is a friend of mine. Now, what can I get ya to drink, on the house." He put the glass and white cloth behind the counter, and leaned on two large and hairy knuckles.

"Thanks for the offer, but I am just here to… talk to somebody." He turned from the bartender, who shrugged and went to turn the small television on, and scanned the room. There was a table with a group of Death Eaters who looked as if they were pumped full of muggle steroids. Each of them was trying to out-drink the others. Another table was the current seat to an old-time friend, who sat reading a paper and nursed a butterbeer.

There were tables with people he had known for years, or people he had seen very rarely and knew none of their names. There were muggles and wizards alike. The Death Eaters were becoming rambunctious. He figured that the sooner he got it over with, the better.

He'd seen the table since walking into the Leaky Cauldron. It was in the far corner of the establishment, hosting four people. The four sons-of-bitches that had ruined his life.

They were laughing and drinking. A pile of chicken bones sat on a tray, waiting to be carried off, by the one closest to him. He started to walk towards them.

Time slowed down as he neared. He counted them off, taking in each of their appearances, making him hate them even more. The one closest to him: Draco Malfoy. The silver haired git that tortured kids when he was younger. The greasy bastard that stood over her while she screamed for mercy or death, laughing.

The table became closer.

A woman with fire-red hair. Ginerva Weasley. Queen of seduction. Mega bitch. Years of crushing men's hearts between her petite and manicured fingers and toes, twisting their minds around her metaphorical sex-pole. She had cut her over and over again, giggling like Bellatrix Lestrange, as she bled.

A man sat hunched over a muggle newspaper, trying to figure out the last two words in the crossword he was doing. He stopped his pursuit for a moment. "Thirty-two down is serenade. Three across is fickle."

"Hey, thanks mister! That one's been…" The man looked around, but he had continued towards the table.

There was another woman. Cho Chang. A slut. She wasn't as seductive as the Weasley. She may have been smart, at one point, to be a Ravenclaw, but she had not an ounce of Slytherin in her. No cunning. She just dropped her shirt or fell to her knees to get what she wanted. She had tried to give him a go while they hurt her.

He was almost there.

The last person there. That was who he was after. The most jealous and insufferable dick on the planet. His red hair and annoying voice. Ronald Weasley, the son of a bitch who killed her.

His boots stopped thrumming against the wooden floor. He stood silently at the side of their table, waiting for them to notice. They were laughing and drinking, eating and drinking, drinking and drinking. Ronald and Cho looked as if they were going to make a child right there, already attached at the face. The other two were just rambling on and on. Draco was the first to look up.

"'Ello, 'ello? What 'appened to de pretty little thing with the perky ass?" He was smashed, trying to fondle the man standing above him in all black.

"Oi, Draco?" Ronald asked. "Who's he?"

Ginerva and Cho stared at the newcomer with a certain lust in their eyes.

Draco shrugged. "Dunno. But do bring us some more of these delightful hot chicken wings, put it on our bosses tab." He winked and made a small clicking noise with his mouth. The man still just stood there.

He spoke. "And who is your boss?" His voice sounded rough and angry. Draco and Ronald looked at each other.

"Who's our boss? What the hell are you, a moron? Where have you been for the past five years?" Ronald asked, sending Draco and Cho into a fit of drunken laughter. Ginerva, however, continued to stare at the mysterious man.

"Out of the country, Ronald." The two stopped laughing and Ron leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and raising an eyebrow.

"So, you know of me?"

The man was silent. He tipped his hat up a small bit with a gloved hand, and Ginerva caught a glisten of his eyes. Her face said it all. Her eyes bulged from her head, she was sweating. Her upper lip curled almost over her nose as her bottom jaw trembled feverously. Blood slowly oozed from the corners of her mouth, she had bitten off a chunk of her tongue. The man turned to face her, pulling his hat back down over his eyes.

"No…" She whispered. "Anybody but you!" Her whispered word was lost upon the screams she now shouted.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Draco asked the question everyone was wondering. The girl was against the back wall trying to claw her way into Diagon Alley. "Ginny!"

"Don't you see him! Don't you know who he is?" She franticly made a dive for her jacket, which the pocket held her wand.

The stranger threw his arm out. "No you don't." Ginerva flew through the air, kicking and screaming, and hit the back wall, hard. The crunch of her skull hitting stone caused a few of the customers to lose their meals and drinks over the tables. The man walked over to her non-moving corpse. He waved a hand over her, muttering enervate under his breath. Ginerva awoke, still screaming and writhing around blindly. He smirked beneath the bandana and towards the table.

Draco was already standing, wand pointed at him, malice in his eyes. "Avada-" Draco stopped the curse. The man had disappeared. Everyone in the pub looked around. He wasn't seen.

"This is for her." Was whispered into Draco's ear. Before he could react, his neck was snapped and his body crumpled against the floor. Cho was screeching, people were flooding out of the Leaky Cauldron, he made his way to Ronald. The Weasley took Cho and bolted into Diagon Alley, leaving his sister convulsing on the floor. Before pursuing, he turned to the bartender.

"Sorry about the mess." The bartender could only nod before he left.

There were a lot of wizarding folk in the alley. He cut his way between them, pushing and gliding through the crowd. There were happy faces of lovers and parents, the melancholic faces of lonely ones. His face couldn't be seen. He just pushed through them; pursuing the ones that had destroyed his life.

Ronald and Cho sprinted through people, trying to make it to the safe house. It was on the far end of the alley, a large and glorious loft. Once there, they could call their master and get the help that they needed. Ronald had a killer headache, but he still wanted some from his betrothed. He'd get it and let the lesser's worry about the man. He didn't care that his sister was severely injured, nor his best friend was dead. He just wanted to get his dick wet.

Ronald felt a pull against his hand. Cho had stopped moving. The expression on her face was like that of a child who had just been yelled at and was about to cry. She looked like she was going to be sick.

"What are you doing! We have to keep going! Come on baby, I promise I'll make you feel better-once-we-get-there!" Ronald tried to yank her with him, but she just stood there, shaking her head and crying. He then noticed laced, black lines crisscrossing over her lips. She was shivering in the rain. "Not you too…" He whispered. She shook her head, tears cascading down her tanned cheeks. A muffled scream tried to break through her sealed face, but it was destroyed before birth.

Her body flung into the air and she thrashed about. People stood and stared at the strange spectacle. Cho shot through the sky to a wooden pole that had just appeared. Her back smacked roughly against it, as thorny vines constricted her to the large crucifix like pillar. Her skin broke out in tiny red blotches. People began to whisper, scream, and run to her aid.

The ground around her caved in and pungi pikes erupted from below. She was encompassed by a wall of death.

Cho's clothes were torn from her body, leaving her naked and exposed in the air. Her breasts bounced wildly as she thrashed about. Children's eyes were covered. Men stared with a sick hunger.

The skin on her stomach was ripped open in letters. A message was spelled into her flesh.

WE ARE GUILTY

The pillar ignited with fire, the blaze soon engulfed Cho's corpse. Her sown lips tore open, as she screamed in agony. "We did it! We killed her! Make it stop! Make it stop!" The crowd was stunned, but threw spells to put out the flames. Nothing worked quickly enough. Cho burned alive at the stake.

Ronald had run for his life when the fire started. He could hear his betrothed's screams, but it didn't matter. His master would protect him. He could find another woman to bear children with.

He sprinted through puddles and ducked into alleys, always watching for the man. On his fourth time ducking into an alley, he felt a sign of relief. There was no one behind him. It was short lived, the relief was. He soon found himself scratching and tearing at his throat. Something was choking him.

"Is this all you've got, Weasley?" Ronald's eyes scoured for the source. "You were always so naive." The man stepped into view. Rain drops exploded against the brim of his hat like bombs of water. Ronald still couldn't see his face. The man approached, his cloak flowing menacingly behind him. "You took from me the only thing that I cared about. You took my life. I'm taking something much more from you, you bastard." The man walked right up to Ronald and tore his hat and bandana off in a single, fluent motion.

"… Harry?" Ronald asked through a constricted windpipe.

The face of the man was stoic. There was a large scar that ran from his hair line, down the middle of a cloudy eye, and almost reached his chin. The other, non-clouded eye was emerald green. A chunk of his left ear, the same side of his head that donned the scar, was missing.

"Tell me, do you know what it's like to watch your soul be torn from your chest, Ronald?" Ronald shook his head 'no'. "Wouldn't have expected you to. When something that you truly love is torn from your life, you lose your soul. That's exactly what you did to me, Ronald. Now, that's exactly what I am going to do to you."

"Harry," he choked out, "we can talk about this! She was going to betray you, we did you a favor!" His eyes were budging from their sockets his face was a nasty hemorrhoid purple colour.

In hindsight, it may not have been the best thing for poor Ronald to have said.

"Doing me a favor!?" The wall to the right of Ronald's head exploded. Harry's good eye grew dangerously dark. He was grinding his teeth and cracking his knuckles. Ronald winced inwardly. He could tell that he had royally fucked up.

"You were doing me a favor? You're a twat Ron, you always have been. You took Hermione from me. The only one that ever loved me. The only one that I ever loved. I'm going to kill you, don't try and stop me." And Harry did just that. He removed Ron's soul with the flick of his wand. The look of horror etched into the kinniving little shit's face didn't even touch the amount of anger Harry was feeling. He walked away from Diagon Alley madder than he had previously been. It was time to end it all.

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