The Prince of Darkness (A Harry Potter Fanfic)

Chapter 5

Okay so I'm rewrighting many of the chapters for this book, so if you notice changes, that's why. NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS BELONG TO ME!

Harry awoke to the sound of screams.

For a moment, his mind struggled to catch up with the chaos around him. Neville's terrified shrieks pierced the air, and Dean was sobbing uncontrollably. Harry's heart raced as he scrambled to sit up.

"Wha—what's happening?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

But the second Harry opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't.

Seamus Finnigan lay sprawled on the floor, his chest barely rising and falling. His skin was pale, sickly—blood smeared across his face. He was barely alive.

Harry froze. His mind flashed to another body, another moment of helplessness. Sirius...

But this wasn't a dream. This was real.

Neville was still screaming, his voice desperate. Dean knelt beside Seamus, tears streaming down his face. But Ron—where was Ron?

Harry felt numb. Seamus, one of his friends—no, someone who had once been his friend—was dying. Harry had to do something.

Dumbledore, his mind screamed. I have to find Dumbledore.

Without bothering to change out of his pajamas, Harry sprinted down the staircase, flew through the portrait hole, and headed straight for the headmaster's office. His feet pounded against the stone floors as his mind raced. He had to save Seamus. He had to get help.

But just as Harry reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, he came to an abrupt stop.

Standing in front of him, blocking his path, was... himself.

An exact replica of Harry stood there, identical in every way except for the eyes. They glowed a sinister, blood-red.

"I don't have time for this!" Harry shouted, his frustration bubbling over. "Move out of the way!"

The other Harry didn't flinch. He merely tilted his head, his expression eerily calm. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What?" Harry growled. "What are you talking about?"

The doppelgänger's voice was cold, unfeeling. "Are you sure you want to alert Dumbledore about Seamus Finnigan?"

"Of course I do!" Harry snapped. "Now get out of the way!"

But the replica didn't move. Instead, it smiled—cold and knowing. "Are you really sure? After everything Seamus said? After he called you a liar?"

Harry hesitated. His mind flashed back to fifth year, to Seamus's refusal to believe him. The arguments. The accusations. It had stung more than he'd admitted, having someone he thought of as a friend turn against him.

"He believed me in the end," Harry muttered, though the words felt weak even as he spoke them.

The other Harry's smile widened. "Did he? Or was he just pretending? Maybe he still thinks you're a psychopath. Maybe he never stopped spreading those rumors."

The doubt settled in Harry's chest like a heavy weight. Seamus had been distant last year, even after apologizing. And hadn't Harry overheard Seamus muttering something about him behind his back just last term?

The doppelgänger leaned closer, its voice a whisper now. "Do you really care if he dies?"

For a moment, Harry didn't move. His mind was racing, heart pounding. Seamus hadn't been a true friend for a long time. Maybe...

Maybe Harry didn't care.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "I want him dead."

"That's more like it," the other Harry purred, stepping aside. "Now go back to your dorm. You don't want to get caught out of bed, do you?"

Without another word, Harry turned away from the headmaster's office and began the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower. His mind swirled with dark thoughts, thoughts he couldn't push away.

Seamus deserved this. He had betrayed Harry, and now he was paying the price. Maybe it was for the best.

When Harry slipped back into the dormitory, Dean looked up, his face pale and tear-streaked. His voice trembled. "Did you find anyone? Did you get help?"

Harry paused. His eyes flicked to Seamus, who lay motionless on the floor. Then he turned to Dean, forcing his face into a mask of calm.

"I couldn't find anyone," Harry lied, his voice steady.

Dean let out a heartbroken sob, burying his face in his hands. Neville was still shaking in the corner, rocking back and forth, too overwhelmed to speak. And Ron—Ron still wasn't there.

Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at Seamus's now-lifeless body. His chest felt tight, but there was no regret. No guilt.

Seamus was gone.

And Harry didn't care.