False Gods, Harry Potter. [ HIATUS ]

xl. eveything that wasn't said

▆▆ ·  ·  ·  · ♡ ୭ ̥◌ . 
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˚ · • ꗃ 𓈈 " chapter 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒚" 𓂃 ! ⊹˚˖⁺  

𝐕𝐎𝐋. 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ━ 𝕯𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹'𝘀 𝕻𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 °. ୭̥❁.*
━━ ❪ 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝚁𝚈 𝙿𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 ❫ . ˚ ⚘ ▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆▆

IT WAS TWO DAYS SINCE THE BRUTAL MURDERING OF CEDRIC DIGGORY.

Everything had unveiled in such a short period of time; Voldemort had risen again, Cedric was dead, Barty Crouch Jr had been impersonating Alastor Moody, who had been trapped inside a fifty feet deep chest in "Moody's" classroom.

      The great hall that day was silent. Only the sounds of beating hearts and stray tears filled the large space. At the Gryffindor table, Harry sat on one side of Alena, keeping a tight hold on her hand.

     "Today we acknowledge a terrible loss. Cedric Diggory was as you all know, exceptionally hard-working, intricately fair-minded, and most importantly, a fierce, fierce friend."

     Alena forced herself to blink away the tears that surfaced her eyes.

     "I think therefore you have the right to know exactly how he died. The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this, I think would be an insult to his memory... Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

     The inaudible gasps and murmurs filled the air whilst Dumbledore continued on, everyone seemed to be paying attention to the older wizard.

     "Harry Potter and Alena Black both managed to escape Voldemort. Both of them had risked their lives to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. In every respect, these two students showed the sort of bravery few wizards ever had facing Voldemort, and for this, I honor them."

     Nearly everyone raised their goblets and followed suit except many of the other Slytherins remained defiantly in their seats.

     Alena's organ of sight undertook the sudden tide of rage and repentance. She believed that Cedric's unwelcome death was her errant. Her hand that was cleaving onto Harry's, clasped even tighter, her rings were bound to make indentions in his skin.

     But he didn't really mind.

     "Every guest in this hall," Dumbledore continued, his eyes lingering on the Durmstrang students. "Will be welcomed back here any time, should they wish to come here. I say to you all once again—in the light of Lore Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are untied, as weak as we are divided. Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is great. We can only fight it by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and languages are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."