HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

second year ➤in the dark

HIS CHOSEN GIRL
chapter forty two-in the dark
[Harry's P.O.V]
☟ ☟ ☟

I sit in the library, bored, across from Hermione and Ron as we finish up some assignments from this week of classes. Usually, (y/n) keeps me entertained during times like this, she always makes me laugh but (y/n), that (y/n), at least is long gone. Once again, she's nowhere to be found. It's not even as though she ignores us anymore, it's like she truly doesn't even know that we exist.

She sits with Ginny nowadays, the two of them seemingly always have got something to talk about, though, I don't think I've seen either of them smile, or laugh in days, weeks even. She's not with Ginny today though, because Ginny's sitting at our table, kind of, I guess. She's isolating us completely, Ron's tried speaking to her several times only to receive one word answers, if that. I've got to admit, if (y/n) is behind Ginny not speaking to her family, it's a real harsh thing for her to do. Ron is driving himself mad trying to figure out what he's done to make Ginny ignore him, what he could've done to prevent it, and what he still can do to help her, even though he still doesn't know what it is exactly that she needs help with. Not a single one of us, as of yet has found out the connection between Ginny and (y/n).

I'm startled out of my thoughts by a loud slam and I turn towards the entrance to see a student standing by the entrance.

"Shhh!" Madam Pince, the freaky librarian, hisses at her.

Wait a second.

"You guys," I say urgently, tapping both Ron and Hermione. "Look!"

(y/n) (l/n) is an absolute mess.

I quite literally hadn't recognized her among first glance. She looks like she's been through hell and back. Her hair is uncombed although as I watch her run her fingers through it stressfully, I decide that maybe it was combed, she's just pulled at it enough to make it look as though she hasn't brushed it in days. Her uniform is wrinkled, her usual bright, sparkling, (e/c) eyes look half closed as if she could fall asleep at any given moment and appear colourless and glazed over. I'm a good distance away from her, but I can ever so clearly see her pain from where I sit. It could be physical pain, emotional pain, or a combination of both, I've never seen her look so hurt.

"Sorry," she grumbles sounding not sorry at all as she walks wobbly over to the section about dark magic and wizards.

It takes everything in my power not to follow her. It pains me to see her in so much pain, really, it does. No words can describe the hurt and the betrayal I feel that she's cut us off like this. I can't stop thinking about what I did to make her feel unsafe in confiding in me. At the end of the day, she was the one who petrified Colin Creevey. When we had gone to visit him, to look for evidence against (y/n) to prove that she was innocent. Instead, we had found, lying on Colin's bedside table, a hair clip, one that we know to belong to (y/n) because Hermione had gifted it to her over the summer, not to mention that we'd seen Filch cleaning the third floor just the other day so we know that her story is a shamble. Last but not least, that night in the hospital, I'd been woken up to the sound of someone speaking in parseltongue, instructing to kill. The only other known parseltongue at this school is (y/n).