Potionary Confinement

The Ones That Love Us

CHAPTER TWELVE

It all happened so quick. With one swish of Wormtail's wand, Cedric was dead. Avada Kedavra.

Harry should've realized the cup was a Portkey sooner. Maybe Cedric would still be there.

Harry was currently in the hospital wing, trapped in his own thoughts. His mind kept replaying over and over again the previous events.

Harry was still in shock. Seeing Cedric on the ground, his eyes open and glassy, sent a chill down Harry's spine. He hasn't spoke in a few hours. He hasn't talked since he told Dumbledore and Sirius what had happened. He hasn't talked since he learned all about his wand and Priori Incantatem. He didn't plan on speaking again for while.

Harry knew his life would be hell from now on, now that Cornelius Fudge didn't believe him. If the Ministry wasn't behind him, how else was he going to defeat Voldemort?

There was no other way to put it. Harry hated his life. What in the world could he possibly have done to deserve this? What did he do to deserve to live in a house full of hateful Muggles who despise and abuse him? What did he do to deserve watching a friend be murdered in front of him? All because of him. All because Voldemort wants him dead.

Harry felt as if it was all his fault. He wasn't quick enough.

Then he heard a familiar swish of robes walking towards the door. He knew it was Snape.

He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He last minute decided to fake being asleep. Harry rolled over on his side and clamped his eyes shut.

Snape walked in slowly and quietly, his black robes still billowing behind him. He took a seat next to Harry's bed.

Harry knew his eyes were fluttering very noticeably, and he scolded himself internally for it.

"I know you're awake, Harry," Snape said gently.

Harry kept his eyes closed. He didn't want the pity. He didn't want to explain once again what had happened.

It's as if Snape read his mind, which... he probably did.

"I know you don't want pity," Snape said softly, almost a whisper. "I know you. You're too head-strong."

Harry sniffed and rolled back over on his side, looking at Snape sullenly.

"I'm not going to ask you to tell me what happened between you and the Dark Lord. You've been through too much already, and I'm sure you've discussed it quite frequently already."

Harry was grateful. Snape is the first person all day that hasn't given him the eyes of sadness and pity.

"You've been through so much for someone your age and it's unfair on your part. I'm not one to do this often, but I truly am sorry for being misguided by you. I've just been blindsided by your striking resemblance of your father."

Harry was confused. He didn't know where he was going from this.

"I thought you to be a spoiled and arrogant brat, pampered and doted on by your relatives, but you're anything but that. You have your father's insufferable recklessness and mischief making," Snape sighed but softened his look. "but you're more like your mother."