Skill and Seclusion [2] || Harry Potter x OC x Draco Malfoy

152. The Fake

DISCLAIMER

I do not own Harry Potter ... but the way Moody contorts into Barty Crouch Junior is actually vile to watch 

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June 24th.

The day Harry would remember forever.

It was the day he saw Cedric Diggory die.

It was the day he was saved by his parents.

It was the day Voldemort returned.

It was the day he saw Mabel Whitlock truly broken.

There was no part of him that wanted to leave her on that field.

He didn't want to leave Cedric, either.

Quite frankly, he didn't know what he wanted.

Being overwhelmed by an emotion is a complex and disorienting thing.

Only being able to focus on the pain in his heart, the raw sobs emitting from his burning throat, the constant flow of tears streaming down his face.

If he were being honest with himself, it was in his mind's best interest to get away from the place Cedric's body was laying.

Even if that meant being forcefully pulled out of the arena by Professor Moody.

Something that, no matter how hard he had tried and protested, Harry couldn't stop.

It eventually wound him up in the DADA professor's office, stood in silence as a broken boy, injured both physically and mentally.

His tears had dried up and cries ceased by the time they walked through the door.

It was like his body had no energy left to give to his grief.

Leaving him to experience the memories of it all in a daze.

Professor Moody continued to push and pull him about, shutting the door, pulling up a wooden stool, and getting Harry to take a seat.

"Are you all right, Potter?" he asked, a hand on Harry's shoulder.

All Harry could do was nod.

It was a lie.

He was far from all right.

Everyone was.

The world was.

"Does it hurt? That?"

Moody's next question made Harry remember the deep cut on his arm.

It was still bleeding profusely, and burning like it was fresh.

But weighing up the pain on his arm to the one in his heart, there was no competition.

"Not so much now", Harry admitted, having his physical pain be outweighed.

"Perhaps I'd better take a look at it."

Professor Moody peeled back the sliced up part of Harry's sleeve to reveal the thin cut mark up his inner forearm.

As he analysed the wound, Harry decided to keep talking.

He needed to discuss what he had been through. To make sense of it. To work out why it had happened, and what it meant.

Despite wanting and needing her, Bel wasn't around to listen and give him the answers he needed.

Dumbledore wasn't either.