For Aetrna's Back To School Competition, in which we had to write about a character... going back to school. Yeah.

Word count: 1021

So that's what they are. He felt bad for it later, but that was his first thought as he saw the carriages that pull the students toward the school. He stared at the carriages in amazement, seeing for the first time the shadowy black figures that pull them along.

His second thought was this should hurt a lot more than it does. And that was the first time he thought something was wrong.

His father had hardly mourned his wife's death, and by age thirteen, Theo had learned to follow suit in whatever his father did. So after the funeral, not a tear was shed, and Theo's father returned to his study, which he rarely left. Theo spent the rest of the summer swinging by himself at the nearby park.

Now that he was back at school, it all sort of hit him: His mother was gone- she wasn't coming back. And now, he needed her more than ever. Ever since her death, his father had been heeding him even less attention than before, and when he wasn't locked in his study, he was out of the house doing... Well, he never told Theo what he was doing, and he preferred not to let his vague ideas get the best of him. And Theo didn't ask questions or get angry; he never did.

And that's why he thought something is wrong: because when someone's parent dies, there are many, many ways to deal with the grief. But simply not feeling any to begin with? It's unheard of. So he clambered of the train with the rest of the boys in his class, not even pretending to laugh at Malfoy's latest jeer.

He climbed into the carriage next to Pansy Parkinson and positioned himself so that it's clear he has no interest whatsoever in making conversation. Care of Magical Creatures was his best subject, and he was glad; he already knew what thestrals were, so he wouldn't make the mistake of pointing these seemingly "new" creatures out to everyone else. They would think he was mad, and he was already starting to think so. He didn't need the rest of them jumping on the bandwagon.

He lay in bed for hours that night, his whole body shaking. The tears were finally threatening to spill over, but he knew he couldn't let them. He would never hear the end of it.

But these weren't tears of grief. They were tears of guilt. Guilt from not crying when she died, guilt from following in his father's shadow instead of telling him to man up, telling him that grown men cry, telling him that he was starting to wonder if he ever loved her at all.

For hours, he dozed on and off, never fully asleep. At around 5:30 the next morning, he finally gave up and climbed out of bed. Walking across the room as quietly as possible, he made his way to the library and collapsed in a wooden chair where he finally let the tears fall.

"I'm sorry," he whispered miserably, "I shouldn't have just followed him. I should have told him he was doing it wrong... It's what you would have wanted."

"Would have wanted what?" someone asked pleasantly. Theo spun around.

"What are you talking about?" he asked sharply. Oh, great, he thought bitterly. Loony Lovegood just happened to be taking an early morning stroll around the library the one time he needed to be alone. "What are you doing here?"

"You said 'it's what you always wanted' and I was curious as to what you meant," she explained. "And I come here quite often in the mornings; it's a lovely spot to think."

He was about to tell her to shove off, that he needs to be alone, when he remembered something he once heard someone mention.

"Your mum died, didn't she?" he asked, and immediately regretted how it sounded. Luna didn't seem fazed, though.

"Yes," she replied, a sad smile on her lips. "I was nine. We were very close. Why do you ask?"

"This past summer," he replied in a clipped voice. "My mum... It was from a Muggle disease, but... They couldn't do anything about it, not even St. Mungo's." Luna reached out and touches his arm gently, but didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue. "She always wanted me to stand up to people," he explained, wiping away some of the tears on his cheeks. "She was always proud of me for speaking my mind, and I think she would have wanted me to talk to my dad about this."

"About what?"

"About... her," Theo choked out. He paused for a moment, regaining his composure, before going on to explain. "He hasn't been grieving... at all. Not in the way that he's forcing it out of his mind and keeping busy all the time, but in the way that I really don't think he feels anything. And I've been doing the same. Because my mum taught me to stand up and speak my mind, but my dad always taught me that whatever he did, I should be doing. And I should have told him that if he wasn't going to grieve, he should've at least let me."

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but Theo suddenly jumped up.

"What's wro- Oh." Theo vomited all over the table in front of him and stepped back, shaking, as Luna took him by the arm and gently guided him to Madam Pomfrey.

"You've got to be kidding me." He felt bad for it later, but those were his first words as Madam Pomfrey told him the bad news.

His next words were "It better take me soon; I don't want to wait like she did." And that's when he realised: Something really was wrong with him. And not just the disease that was slowly destroying destroying his body.

When his father found out, his eyes were blank and his mouth was open, and Theo barely blinked an eye.

"You better mourn me," Theo said coldly, looking his father in the eye. "You owe it to her."