Desperate | A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Unspoken

'Things will never change and our hearts will always separate, forget about you, I'll forget about you. Things we never say, are better often left alone. Forget about you, I'll forget about this time. But it's the same old situation, we made it through this far. We watched the rockets kiss the sky, I saw the flames burn out in your eyes.' -unspoken by hurts.

It was dark in the cupboard Harry Potter was locked in. Nobody at Hogwarts believed him about Cedric's death. "Cedric's death was a tragic accident", they said. It wasn't true. He had been murdered by Voldemort but Harry had been deemed insane for believing in such things. But Harry had been there! How could it be a lie if he had seen it happen? Perhaps they where just scared of the truth. It hurt. The pain was so overbearing that even eating seemed impossible now. He was only fourteen yet he had been able to get hold of some Jack Daniels somehow although he didn't remember how. 

It was cold and it had only been just over a week since the tragedy of Cedric's death. Hardly a soul had spoken to him about it and he had been left alone to mourn. Guilt. Pain. Anger. How could they believe it an accident? How could they not care?

They should all be ashamed of themselves. After all he'd done for them and they have the audacity to call him a liar? It was outrageous! But as Harry lay there he thought not of the accusations that had been pushed upon him; it was his fault that Cedric had died. His fault that the wand that belonged to Voldemort had been pointed at Cedric and not him. Harry felt his eyes fill with tears and he put his face in the carpet that he had had to lay on all these years.

'And leave the rest unspoken, I'll never change my mind.' It was so cold a Harry lay on the carpet. His uncle had been angered at the sight of him when he had gotten home. Harry knew that he only ever caused trouble. He was a burden to everybody who knew him. He was better of being left unspoken. 

With a look of despair showing heavily on his features, he took a swig of the Jack Daniels. The burning sensation that travelled down his throat made him uncomfortably aware that he was still alive an able to feel. Able to feel pain, able to feel lost, able to feel regret. The feeling made him take another swig which only made him feel worse. 

It was tragic.

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AN - Leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter! :)