❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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VII. HOW DID WE END?
━━━━━━
"My beloved ghost and me
Sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G"
HARRY JAMES POTTER HAD NEVER hated school this much. Unfortunately, it only took him the second day of his fifth year to realise that hey, maybe he was capable of hating the same school that he deemed to be his very own solace.
But in all seriousness though, the second day of school should be a very relaxing day, but for Harry Potter, it had been the calmest to stressful and agonising — torturous — day he had ever lived in the entirety of his life —
Wait. Maybe that was a bit of an over-exaggeration; he had many days in which he felt as if dying was better than living. However, today was different.
Today, to him, felt as if it was a curse disguised as a blessing. Everything went as swell and normal as it could be for him with the title of "LIAR" still stuck on his forehead like a big old sign; there was no Snape and someone outright told him that they believed him, even if it was just Luna Lovegood or Ernie McMillan. But then, his day ended horrendously. Why?
Umbridge.
Point blank.
That was his problem next to Voldemort being a looming threat that wants to kill him instead of just terribly maim him.
Umbridge was the mere reason why his hand ached unlike any ache he had ever felt. It was burning, as if his hand had went through hell and back. It was scarred gruesomely that none of the scars that etched his body could quite come into comparison with it. Harry was pissed. Harry was tired. Harry didn't know what to do.
Harry was in a dead end.
He had always known that luck was never on his side what with his parents being killed when he was barely one, his godfather being a wanted criminal, him being placed with his no-good relatives that enjoyed his misery rather than his happiness, and the him getting dumped by the only person he had ever like. Seriously, he was the bearer of all misfortune, but he was optimistic that it would get better.
He said to himself, It will get better.
But he was the cushion that break the fall of those misfortune, and you want to know what was worse? No one would understand.. And that never cease to make him feel ever more lonelier than ever.
Though, he guessed luck was kind of on his side when he left Umbridge's office. The school was deserted of students, ghosts and staffs; it was surely almost curfew. He walked painfully, slowly up the corridor then, when he had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear him, broke into a run toward the nearest loo as blood began to trickle down his hand.
