ϟ 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 ϟ

Thestrals

•.*\〖 ϟ 〗/*.•

     A week ago, the last trial of the Triwizard Tournament was commenced.

     A week ago, Harry, Fleur, Viktor, and your brother Cedric had disappeared into the hedges to find the cup.

     A week ago, Harry had apparated with the portkey cup with Cedric.

     Only...

     ...your brother was dead.

     Everyone had been cheering for his and Harry's return, oblivious to the sobbing fourteen-year-old clutching to the older boy for dear life.

     You were the first to know that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. You had let out a blood-curdling scream overflowing with anguish and despair. You had sprinted to the body and fallen on your knees, scraping them badly. However, the pain from the scrapes hadn't compared to the sheer agony tearing your heart apart from the inside. You had grabbed at Cedric's shirt and his arms, trying to wake him up even though you knew there was no hope. You could barely make out the details of his lifeless face through the blur of the tears that incessantly flowed out of your eyes.

     Amos had descended the stairs to the bleachers as well, yelling in pain once he reached his daughter and son's side.

     You'd been sobbing hysterically when Mattheo gently pulled you up to stand with him, engulfing you in a hug.

     Everyone close to Cedric died a little, that day.

     Especially you, Harry, and Mattheo.

~ * ϟ * ~

     In the main hall, you were sat at your house table rather than with your Gryffindor friends at their table, which was unusual. You were picking around at your food, having not eaten yet. You hadn't felt very hungry, lately.

     You'd been hearing whispers going around the hall, from different people at different tables. You heard some people muttering about how you'd changed over the past week - some didn't know that your brother had been killed, and had made assumptions that made you feel worse.

     One comment someone made was the last straw.

     "Dude, she's been like that because her brother died a week ago."

     It's like people have absolutely no shame or respect, and they don't even bother to try and be quiet.

     You abruptly stood up, dropping the fork you previously held, and briskly made your way to the hall exit as the metallic clatter from the fork rung out and echoed off the walls.

     It was deathly quiet, and almost every pair of eyes were on you as you walked away from the table.

     You didn't care if it was embarrassing. You didn't care what people thought about it - just the fact that they hadn't stopped making rude comments about your dead brother and your almost ghostly appearance.

     You had no tears left to cry, but your nose and eyes incessantly continued to burn painfully.

     You made your way out of the castle and toward the Black Lake, needing a moment of fresh air and solitude to be able to breathe normally again. You settled down against the trunk of the tree by the shore, staring at the way the water rippled and the leaves of the forest across the lake swayed in the cool calm wind.