Time is Complicated (Harry Potter fan fiction)(Unedited)

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Albus

Al woke up with a jolt in the middle of the night. He was sweating like it was a thousand degrees, breathes uneven, hands trembling, it was as if he woke up from a horrible nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare, it was a memory. The memory that holds the reason why he's here; the memory that holds the identities of the wizards who placed him here.

But why remember now? He's been torturing his head to remember the said events, and it was clear that they erased his memories, why remember. He needs to tell someone, but before that he needs to think.

He frantically made his way out his current bedroom, grabbing his glasses and second hand jacket along the way. He maneuvered his way in the dark, stumbling his way down the stairs in process, and bumping into a lot of furniture, but managed to find his way out the porch.

He sat down, still trembling, still breathing like he ran a thousand miles.

Thinking that the trembling was caused by the cold temperature, Al cupped his hands and blew air into his hands. But it didn't work; instead he intertwined his hands as if he was praying just to stop the trembling. Still it was useless, how can he stop the trembling from his hands when his body was in the same situation.

Goyle, He thought. Goyle did this, he did this to me.

He should have noticed that having Goyle freed in Azkaban is a bad sign. He should have told his father that it was a bad idea, but no, he ignored it and look what happened.

He was going to die, and no one will know.

He's scared, heck he was beyond scared. He knew that without Snape's potion he wouldn't be feeling like this, he shouldn't have agreed to take it in the first place. This memory, this freaking memory triggered the damn potion again, and now he's in his worse state.

He wanted to scream in frustration, he wanted to cry because his scared, he wanted someone to be with him at the moment. He wants to go home, he wants his family. He wants help even though his grandfather was doing his best to save him. But, heck, he was still scared.

He wants his parents to be here with him, he wants to be with the only people who feels safe, he wants to be with the person who was always there to send him encouraging letters whenever he faces a Quiditch match, he wants to be with the person who gave him his first broomstick. He wants his father.

Because he's scared.

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Harry

Harry opened his eyes.

He was having a nice dream for ones and it was interrupted because he needed to use the toilet. Grumbling, he grabbed his glasses and made his way out his bed and out his current bedroom.

It was easy to find the toilet considering that it was a room away from him, but he still ended up bumping a few furnishings on the way. Harry was rubbing the drowsiness away from his eyes as he made his way out the toilet, only to notice that someone else was awake.

He caught a whiff of a bright red head making its way down the stairs, only to trip at the bottom part.

Thinking that it was Ron, Harry followed it out the porch. But ones he was out, cold air bit his skin and, to his disappointment, found that it was Al instead of Ron. Automatically, Harry hugged himself to keep some body heat for himself.

He still held a grudge towards Al, and nothing was ever going to change that. The boy was a fake, he's a liar, and everyone's seems to not notice. Why are people so dense ones things are obviously staring right in their faces?