FLIPPED - harry potter

༺ 60 - endless misery.

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| ENDLESS MISERY |
"How is it our greatest strength if it weakens us?"

Comment a lot for the last chapter of fifth year!!

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HARRY AND ALORA CAME IN CONTACT WITH THE HOGWARTS FLOOR BELOW THEM. They stood in complete silence where the only thing that could be heard was the soft snoring from a nearby portrait, until finally, Alora let out a quiet sob into her hands.

If she had just taken Hermione's advice and not rushed off to save Sirius, he would still be here, at her home, awaiting her arrival during summer. Voldermort's plan had taken away her father, the man she only grew to love in recent aspects, but that love overpowered any other.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, "I'm so sorry, Lora."

Alora took her face from her grasp of her bloodstained hands and wiped them from her injured cheeks, "Why are you sorry? I also told everyone to come, you just wanted to save my — my Dad."

Harry felt as though he had left his heart back at the Ministry of Magic, he could not quite fathom with the length of guilt that had consumed him. Alora lost her father due to his stupid, gullible head. It's your fault he's dead, it's YOUR fault she'll never be the same.

Alora was already broken after Cedric, this was all she needed to shatter her completely.

"Because—" Harry's voice broke, "because, I told you about it in the first place, if I hadn't listened to — to Voldemort, then maybe—"

"No," Alora strode over and stood within inches of Harry, looking slightly up to his eyes with the washed over tears that were waiting to fall. "You're not going to apologise, we're all at fault. You didn't kill him, Harry, that monster did."

With a trembling lip, Harry quietly nodded.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Alora breathed, taking in a sharp, painful breath. "He can't just be gone. . .that's not how this works, there's still always something left of him, something that people can visit or — or talk to when they're sad, or—"

Alora's breaths were beginning to quicken, she could not quite wrap her head around the idea that not even Sirius's body was there to bury. There was nothing left of him. Only a couple clothes and possessions waiting for his never coming return. She felt Harry's shaking arms hold her to his chest as she began to cry, a low, small sob.

He planted a kiss on her forehead which had a few streaks of dried blood painted across it, but he did not care — Alora's body could've been drowned in it, yet Harry would not mind, he would still bestow a kiss upon her and wipe the blood off before it parched.

The empty fireplace burst into an emerald flame interrupting them, they both leaped away from the door, they gazed at the man unfolding his form inside of it. Dumbledore stood tall and began to amble towards his desk, accepting the warm welcomes of the portraits around him.

"Thank you," he spoke softly.

"Well, Harry, Alora," he turned towards them after a while of avoiding eye contact, "you will both be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from the night's events."