Miss Slytherin

Book 4: Chapter 24

Harry walked with Professor Moody, his heart heavy, his nose lodged with snot, eyes puffy. He had lost Finley, and he couldn't help but blame himself for being so weak, for not being able to defend his only sister from the man whose initial plan was to kill him. His body shook, devastated with the loss that he had not realised that they arrived in the defence against dark arts office. Hearing the door close shut, he stood there in the middle of the room, frozen.

Moody pulled out a stool and guided Harry to sit down by a large crate. What was Harry doing here? Shouldn't he be with Finley?

Moody pulled him away from his sister, pulled him away from her when he needed ti be there with her. No one was going to mourn for her when her only family left was him, he needed to be there.

"Are you alright Potter?" Moody asked him. Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, inquiring him if he was alright. How could he be alright? He shouldn't be here grabbing tea!

"I need to get back to my sister," he excused himself as he attempted to stand up but was pulled back down by the professor. But his works fell on deaf ears, the man seemed to be more concerned by the wound on his arm than the dead girl which Harry calls his family.

"Does it hurt? That?"

"It doesn't matter! My sister needs me!" Harry yelled as he forcibly stands up from the professor's grip but remained fruitless.

"Perhaps I better take a look at it," Moody spoke, ignoring Harry's protests as he opened the ripped sleeve and saw the straight slit on Harry's forearm. "The cup was a port key," Harry gritted as he started putting pieces together, this man in front of him placed the cup in the maze. He was the one who brought him and Cedric to the graveyard, and might also be the reason why his sister ended up there in the first place.

"What was it like?"

Harry stared at the man confused. What was what like? To see his sister get murdered? To get his forearm slit?

"What was he like?"

"Who?" Harry narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him, slowly his suspicions were becoming correct.

"The Dark Lord."

"What was it like to stand in his presence?"

"I don't know," Harry replied glumly, patting his pockets for his wand, or anything that might be used as a weapon against this crazy man. "It was like I'd fallen into one of my dreams, into one of my nightmares," Harry says as he observed the professor who had his back turned from him. Watching his body shake as if he was transforming, the man took his flask and opened it, trying to drink from it but non came out from it.

Moody rushed tiwards the closed curtain where as Harry followed him, he opened a chest filled with bottle, scanning them and yet none of them were full of the thing he had been drinking. Harry could see how he frantically checks every bottle before gasping.

"Were there others?" He asked Harry. "In the graveyard, were there others?"

Harry paused, he had never mentioned on a graveyard to him or to anyone. He looks up to Moody, his eyes now narrowed and accusatory. "I don't think I said anything about a graveyard, professor."

Harry took as a step back as Moody paced towards him with an insane look in his eye. "Marvellous creatures, dragons, aren't they?"

"Do you think that miserable oaf would've led you into the woods, if I hadn't suggested it?"

Harry watched as the man scattered himself around the room as if he was looking for something. Something he desperately needed at the moment, his heart hammering in his chest. "Do you think Cedric Diggory would've told you to open the egg underwater, if I hadn't told him first myself?" He exclaimed taking out a bottle from the cabinet.