❝𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴,
𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 was a somewhat quiet, yet mischievous guy who had trouble tailing him since he was a mere one year-old. He encounters a girl, whose only known attribute wa...
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LXVII. CRUEL FATE
19:09 ─❁────────── 19:79
◁ Ⅱ ▷
❝Every time dream comes true,
I'll remember you❞
༻───────────────༺
HARRY KNEW FOR ALL HIS life that the world had never been kind to him. He learnt that the hard way. But never did he guessed that they would ever cross the line of no return.
And that thought didn't reach his mind yet until his feet hit the solid ground. The battle of the Department of Mysteries was something Harry never wanted to relived, and deep down all the deaths that happened, he knew who was at fault truly.
His knees buckled a little and the golden wizard's head fell with a resounding clunk to the floor. He looked around and saw that he had arrived in Dumbledore's office.
Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the headmaster's absence. The delicate silver instruments stood again upon the spindle-legged tables, puffing, and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of their pictures. Harry looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: Dawn was approaching.
The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to him. If his surroundings could have reflected the feelings inside him, the pictures would have been screaming in pain. He walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But he had to think... There was no escape...
It was his fault they died; it was all his fault. If he, Harry, hadn't been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, if he handn't been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real, if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as Hermione had said, banking on Harry's love of playing the hero...
It was unbearable, he would not think about it, he could not stand it... There was a terrible hollow inside him he did not want to feel or examine, a dark hole where they had been, where Sirius had vanished. Where Lucia had fell. He didn't want to have to be alone with that great, silent space, he could not stand it —
A picture behind him gave a particularly loud grunting snore, and a cool voice said, "Ah... Harry Potter..."
Phineas Nigellus gave a long yawn, stretching his arms as he watched Harry with shrewd, narrow eyes.
