Harry potter and his life of bullsh!t

Chapter 15: Staring at the ceiling in the dark

NARRATOR'S POV~

Harry's emotionlessly stared at the ceiling in his dimly lit room. His back was pressed against a wall while he sat on the floor. His legs were pulled to his chest and his arms fell heavily at his sides. Dried blood set into the fabric of his sleeves and the heavy and sweet smell of iron danced through the room with no remorse.

Messy blacks locks shadowed his dull eyes as they focused on a miniscule detail that made its home in his room. The only sound a regular person would be able to hear, would be small silent breathes coming from the small boy. But Harry? He could hear so much more.

The quite sounds of more then twenty adolescents snoring echoed on the walls, the wind howled above the lake and the ice cold water swirled in harsh waves.

Harry could hear the heartbeats and breathing of everyone in the dorms. He could hear fish swimming through the dark waters above him. He could hear when the water hits sharp rocks, and he could hear the mumbling of a sleep talker a few rooms away from his.

In his past life his senses were practically inhumane. But now? After he died? they were more then that. Far more. he could hear, smell, feel, taste, and sense everything around him.
Hell, he could smell the sweat of a kid two rooms away from his own.

There were two trails of dried blood going down his face, starting at his eyes and ending at his chin. I should probably explain why, huh? nope, figure it out yourself, that's for a later chapter ;).

Harry had casted a tempus a little while ago and it was five a.m. The sun was starting to rise on the horizon he couldn't see, but the boy hadn't slept a wink.

When he got back to his room last night, he had allowed himself to drown. To sink into the sorrow barried deep in him, etched to his very core. Memories flooded him in waves, never giving him a chance to catch his breath. His past haunted him more then even the worst ghost could ever dream of.

His breathing had quickened to an unhealthy rate, his blood froze but a cold sweat ran on his forehead. He couldn't hear, his ears were ringing. couldn't smell, too focused on his beating heart. Couldn't see, his vision gone black. And he couldn't feel a thing around him, too numb to process information correctly.

He hadn't known he had moved, didn't realize he made his way to the bathroom, didn't realize what he was doing. But what he does know, was when he snapped out of it and hour later. Blood was everywhere. The sink, the counter, his clothes, his face, the floor, the walls, his neck, and his arms. Oh Merlin, his arms. It was all painted red.

It took him half an hour to bandage himself and clean everything up. But during this time, he couldn't feel a thing. He was utterly numb.

Which leads to where he is now. Sitting on his cold bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling, and listening to a poor kid having a nightmare a couple rooms away.

"....Harry.. I think you should start getting ready for school.." A quite voice mumbled in his head.

"What, no more 'master'?" Harry joked halfheartedly.

"it doesn't feel like the right moment for that..." Was the only answer he got.

"Fair enough." He retorted.

Harry finally looked down from the ceiling after hours of staring. On the floor in front of him, curled into a tight ball, was a white, violet, and light green snake. Athena's small head moved slowly from its previous position on her tail. Toxic green eyes met light peach ones.

Their eyes had been locked for bairly a second before Athena's eyes flashed in a glossy manor. If snakes could cry, she would be balling. She had seen the whole thing, but couldn't stop him. Couldn't help him.