Isolation || Harry Potter

Chapter 5

'Harry dear, Mrs Weasley greeted him with open arms the next morning. He had spent the last day locked away in his room, drifting in and out of sleep and nearly crying out from starvation but he deserved it. He deserved to feel that pain, to feel that isolation. It brought him comfort to feel that way. Sometime between midnight and midmorning, Harry had resolved to punching himself, smacking at his eyes with such force he thought he had pushed them into his head.

Mrs Weasley eyed his face, ushering him down into the kitchen where the others were with some shock at what become of the who had spent countless months at her home, smiling and playing around. Now he was taunt, bruised, and thin. I made your favourite porridge. Mrs Weasley gushed, seating him close to the stove area where a large pot hung just over a tattered stove like object.

Arthur, Fred, and George sat just across from him, sifting through papers of some kind diligently. Harry had caught them looking at him as he entered, their eyes trained on his blackened ones – he hated his mom.

Morning Harry, George finally greeted, offering him a tight smile.

Weve got a surprise for you. Fred added, his eyes lingering just a moment too long on Harrys bruised up face.

Once mums gone of course. George said.

Cant have her going mental again. Fred said. Good summer then? George slammed his elbow into Freds ribs.

Harry shrugged. George swiftly changed the subject.

Thanks again for the money, George partially had his entire torso on the table as he whispered this, careful of his mom hearing these words.

Well give you special discounts once were up and running. Freda added.

Thanks. Was all Harry said before Mrs Weasley slid a full bowl of porridge in front of him.

There you are dear. She gushed, pulling her apron off and sitting next to Arthur.

I dont suppose you have one of those rubber duckies harry? Mr Weasley suddenly asked, pushing his newspaper onto the table.

Erm, no. Harry said.

Not to worry, not to worry. But Harry was worrying. Ive been starting a collection.

Molly, Sirius appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Remus. Would you mind if we spoke to Harry for a moment.

Of course not. Mrs Weasley shoved the three boys from their seats, ushering them hurriedly from the kitchen.

Remus held onto her arm briefly, whispering something that Harry was unable to hear before sending her off again. He knew it was something unpleasant from the way that Molly seemed to linger in the doorway for a few minutes before shutting the old door behind her portly figure. She had looked at him how everyone else seemed to recently and he hated it. He didnt want to be pitied, and he didnt want to be looked at all the time. He simply just wanted to be asked if he was truly okay.

Because he wasnt.

Sirius sat next to Harry, pushing the porridge bowl aside once he noticed that Harry didnt fancy eating it, and Remus took a chair across the table from him. There was a strange silence between them before Remus finally spoke up, a silence that none of them wanted to break in fear of what might be said. Neither of them smiled, and neither of them looked Harry in the eyes. They despised him.

Harry, Remus finally said. if somethings wrong you can tell us. Remus didnt want to mention the death of Cedric nor the return of Voldemort as he felt that it was something Harry should be willing to talk about.

Yeah. Harry meekly answered, noticing how the walls of the long kitchen seemed to grow smaller each passing second.

We care for you Harry. Sirius added, shifting around that he faced Harry who simply stared at the wall opposite him.

Yeah. The same answer.

Cedric, Harry flinched. didnt deserve to die but there was nothing you couldve done. Sirius said, placing his hand atop Harrys shoulder.

But I couldve. I brought Voldemort back. He now looked at Remus, not wanting to face his godfather. If I had died then Voldemort wouldnt have come back, and Cedric would still be alive. If Voldemort had killed me along with my parents none of this wouldve happened. It felt oddly calming to admit his odd craving for death.

Harry, you dont mean that. Remus reasoned, his face aging dramatically.

How would you know? Harry spat, tossing Sirius hand from his shoulder, and turned towards the door.

He hated this, he hated how he had managed to push everyone away even if they tried to hold on. He didnt want to drag them down with him, wanted them to be able to swim to the top while he was dragged under, holding them up higher above the water. Harry believed that by sacrificing himself, sacrificing his own life, he served as an island to keep them safe from him. He knew that Sirius tried to reason with him as he stood frozen with his hand on the old doorknob, and he knew that Remus was holding his godfather back in a hope that Harry would come to his senses if left alone. But hope was a naïve thing to believe in.

Sirius continued to speak, etching his thin old arms closer and closer towards Harry as Remus' grip on his loosened. His hands grazed Harrys shoulder briefly, igniting some sort of action and registration within Harry. In one swift movement, he flung the door open and clambered up the old creaking staircase that lead to the main entrance of the darkened house. A strange sort of dread boiled up within Harry as he continued to climb the stairs, his mind screaming at him to return to his godfather and ask him if he cared. Ask him if he knew that Harry was drowning.

But no one cared.

He slammed into someone, keeping his face to the floor Harry mumbled a small apology and attempted to relieve himself of their company. His throat was closing up and unwelcome tears brimmed from his mothers eyes that he hated so much. The person caught his arm.

'Bloody hell,' Harry's head shot up. 'you look awful.'

Ron stood before Harry, his hair ruffled slightly from sleep and a tattered, and slightly short, jumper that Harry remembered from his third year when Ron feigned a smile upon receiving the gift. Ron had never worn it around Hogwarts. As always, a small speck of dust sat atop his long nose that somehow always seemed to return no matter how hard he tried, hiding feeble freckles dusted along his face from earlier summer days.

Harry shifted from where he stood, avoiding meeting his eyes for fear of what his old friend though of him. 'Er, hi.' Harry responded meekly, suddenly self conscious as to how Ron viewed him.

'Look,' Ron hand a hand through his hair. 'I know we haven't been as close as we were but I was hoping maybe this year could be different? Hermione's been rather desolate since you left, mate.' Embarrassment crept up along Ron's cheeks, he never did like apologies.

'I can't.' Harry blurted, pushing his tears further back in a promise that he would let them free once he was in his room.

'What?' Ron looked bewildered, now looking at Harry even further. 'If anything's happened with You-Know-Who over the summer, you can tell me.' His voice had dropped to a whisper.

'No.' Harry said.

'But, are you okay then?' And there it was, the question Harry had both been craving and dreading since last year. It caused Harry to stumbled out of Ron's reach, turning sharply and carrying himself up the two flights of stairs that led to a corridor of rooms.

He was not okay.