Tore Me Apart

4. The Nitty-Gritty Info

Sorry I kept you guys waiting for so long, but a reason for that was that I kinda lost my inspiration and started reading Ghost Dream fanfics... Ahem, anyways, here's the chapter! And my drawing hasn't been done yet, busy with homework and all thatヘ(￣ω￣ヘ)

Also, any limelights reading? Why Don't We absolutely smashed this time! But honestly, when have they never? I'm literally listening to it while writing this. 😍 I'm very biased towards Corbyn, and my favourite songs was 'Grey'! How about you guys? My friend really liked 'For you'.

*****

As soon as Harry was down, the order gathered around him. Faces of surprise, shock and fear.

"Albus?" said man was sucked out of his state of panic, whipping his head around to look at Minerva McGonagall. He slowly stood up, legs quivering, as he dusted off his obnoxiously colored robes.

"I am quite alright Minerva" the twinkle in his eye came back at full force, paired with a wrinkly smile, and the transfiguration teacher wasn't sure if he was trying to convince the order, or himself. Most likely a mixture both.

Frantic arms pushed through, the crowd parting easily to reveal a slight scared Ron and a worried Hermione. The duo ran straight to the boy on the floor. They stared at him for a moment, before Hermione crouched down to inspect the boy she still considered a best friend, while knowing he might no longer replicate those feelings.

His breathing was coming out in ragged breaths, there were clear signs of malnourishment, several cuts ranging in size from just a tiny gash to one running all the way down to his hips. There were many dried blood patches, some still fresh and seeping the red liquid. His lips were dry and chapped, bleeding slightly. A few healed marks on his back were probably whip marks, but one can never be too sure.

Brown eyes flashed with pity as her eyes roamed across his lithe frame, taking in every detail as if he were about to die. "I-" her voice came out scratchy at first, still taking in everything. Her voice was louder, and just oozing with concern, "why does he have so many injuries!?" she turned to one of the three prison guards playing go fish silently at the door, her eyes looking as threatening as she felt. But when she spoke, it came out as a weak croak of "What happened to him?"

The guard looked at her, glaring slightly before shrugging and continuing with the game, not at all concerned about the health conditions of the boy prophesized to be the Wizarding world's savior. She heard a "Go fish motherfucker" later on, but decided to ignore it.

Hermione looked up at the order, seeing them direct horrified looks towards the guard, she knew they finally noticed the terrible condition their savior was in.

A trembling hand took her's, and slowly, arms enveloped her in warmth she was sure Harry would never get in the cell. She silently wept into red hair, and he wept back, both wishing this was all a dream, a nightmare, anything but reality. The others looked on in pity while the guards continued their card game, blocking out the sound of crying.

No matter how hard she begged, no matter how hard he wished, no matter what they did,

They would never wake up from reality. And that was like a slap in the face, a slap of the cold, harsh reality both of them helped create.

Because you can't change the past...

Or can you?

*****

This book will be on hiatus until further notice. I just haven't had many ideas for this anymore. Sorry if I ruined your mood.

If it makes you feel any better, this chapter has brought some ideas to me, but I'll have to figure out how to incorporate that into the book. The next chapter update will just be me showing you guys my drawing.