It's the last day of Harry's fourth year and he's still reeling from the graveyard. He tries to stay in the dorm for the closing feast, but Ron drags him out anyway. He's been avoiding everyone as much as he can since he came back after the third task.
Every jostle reminds him of the gut-wrenching sensation of a portkey, every hug makes him think he's tied to the gravestone again, and every touch makes him shiver from Voldemort's phantom fingers digging into his forehead.
The chatter of the crowd in the Great Hall echoes in his ears and becomes distorted until he can only hear the cruel laughter of the death eaters gathered around the clearing.
He still gets shocks from the cruciatus curse. His muscles lock up and he can't move or think about anything other than pain, but he knows he's not in pain anymore, and that somehow makes it worse. At least his scars are proof of what he's gone through. The cruciatus leaves no mark. Just like Avada Kedavra. Just like Cedric, collapsing to the ground, dead before his eyes have time to close.
If it weren't for his open eyes, he could have been sleeping. If it weren't for the image of his ghost pleading for Harry to take his body back to his father that has carved itself onto the backs of Harry's eyelids, he could pretend nothing happened.
It would be easier than thinking about what it means for him that Voldemort is back for real now.
YOU ARE READING
The Demons That Follow (Harry Potter fanfic)
Fiksi PenggemarHarry has been through some shit and I think he would not be nearly as well-off as he is in canon. This is a character study of the various ways each year has traumatized him, a chapter for every year. *also posted on ao3 under the user allhailnezut...
