Champions

Breaking Point

Harry was fortunate enough that they ran into Neville halfway down the hall outside of Gryffindor Tower, and after giving Hermione a solid hug and whispering reassuring words in her ear for a few minutes, he was able to pawn her off on him. He was in no fit state to comfort another, with his anger burning so brightly as it was. He wasn't even sure anymore exactly why he was angry.

One would think he would have been much better prepared for such an outcome given Ron's recent behavior, but he just... wasn't.

Not knowing where else to go, he made a beeline for the Beauxbatons carriage, but he couldn't decide if he wanted to see Fleur or not. A distant part of him quailed at Ron's accusations, insisting that they were partly true. Was he not living with his wife when it would never be allowed for any other student?

But as he neared the coach, the anger started to burn away, leaving other, far more potent emotions in its wake. Images flashed through his head of the times he and Ron spent together, starting from that very first meeting on the Hogwarts express. Ron was his very first friend. Where had everything gone so wrong? Had he misjudged Ron so badly as all that?

And how much more was he going to have to lose before Fate would be satisfied?

His hand shook as he reached up to open the door, and he stared at it in surprise for a long moment before finally pushing forward. Something inside him was thinning, and he didn't know if he would survive the experience when it snapped. How much more could he possibly endure?

For so long he'd secretly harboured dreams of the future while he was locked in that infernal cupboard, and with each passing day, they seemed further and further away. Yes, good things had happened to him, but did they really offset all the pain? Was it going to be like this for the rest of his life?

And why did everyone leave him? He distantly recognized the irrationality of that thought, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering.

His parents were gone before he even knew who they were, and he'd always deeply regretted that – and sometimes was even angry at them for it. He'd gone through his childhood dreaming of being reunited with them, even though he knew it was impossible. That dream was dead before it even formed, and there was nothing he could do to change it short of taking his own life. Even back then, when it all seemed so hopeless, he was unwilling to give up.

And then he made friends, and things were better for a while. Yes, there were bumps in the road, but life went on. He survived school, he survived the First Task of the Tournament, and then he ended up saving Fleur, which was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him even if he didn't realize it at the time. But then...

...then, the woman who was the closest thing to a mother he had, had shown her true colors.

Harry was not surprised that Molly was angry; in fact, he expected it. She didn't have the full story, and so could not completely understand. But her words were so incredibly harsh, and the things she implied so vile, that he could not prevent his opinion of her from changing. Gone were his rose colored glasses, and he wasn't sure that he liked what he saw.

And he wept for the loss of that dream. He'd somehow expected that he would someday be an actual part of that family, though he didn't know exactly how it would happen. They were all he had to base his dreams on, and so he did. They cared about him, and they thought highly of him, and he would spend the rest of his life enjoying their company.

But then the howler came, and he realized that Molly didn't think nearly so highly of him as he believed. Just as the Dursleys had done on occasion, she lulled him into a false sense of security so she could make it that much more painful when she shattered his illusions. Oh, he knew it wasn't the truth – Molly wasn't that cruel, at least intentionally – but that was the way it felt, and it had the same effect.