Just A Prank?

Chapter 5 (Final Chapter)

You have all been waiting for this for so long. And now I just sat down and wrote this chapter for you guys. I hope you enjoy. ||

Once at the office, the trio felt a tense atmosphere in the room. An old looking minister was sitting in Dumbledore's seat, three wooden chairs aligned in front of his desk. He calmly gestured the three to sit down. The portrait of the long-gone headmaster was gloomily looking at the three students in disappointment, sighing heavily.

Harry was frozen to the spot, scared to move. McGonagall nudged him forward gently, a stern expression on her face. Harry stumbled a bit before hesitantly walking over to the middle chair, sitting down. Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of him.

McGonagall walked around the desk, standing beside the minister. After a heavy, heart-wrenching pause, he looked closely at the three friends, letting out yet another heavy sigh.

"Now... I-.... I assume you know why you've been sent here?" His voice was cracking a bit, anger, sorrow and patience evident in his tone.

Hermione looked over at the two boys. Harry looked down in shame, Ron gave a slow nod and Hermione gasped as yet another sob escaped her throat. She clasped a hand over her mouth to stay quiet, closing her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks.

The minister clicked his tongue in pity, gesturing for McGonagall to take care of the suffering girl. He knew she wasn't at fault. Although she was needed in the picture during this conversation, he could talk to her later individually. She nodded and walked over to Hermione, carefully helping her out of her seat as she walked to another room with her.

"There there, dear... Calm down... Come with me please... Poor darling"

Now Ron and Harry felt defenceless. It was just them two and the minister whom they never met before. The man straightened up in his seat, moving a few pens and papers aside to make space for his hands. He intertwined his fingers, fiddling with his thumbs. The old clock in the room was ticking slowly, the seconds seemed to stretch as the silence went on.

The man opened his mouth again, looking up at the two boys. He nodded to himself, looking down at the desk, around the room and back at them before he could speak again. This was a heavy subject, no joke. He didn't know how to start.

"Draco Malfoy was found dead in the school yard four hours ago, choked on his own tie. The situation was almost concluded to be murder when one of the authorities found a note by the roots of a big tree not too far away from him. I assume you're familiar with the contents of it?" He looked Harry dead in the eye, gritting his teeth.

Harry was sweating, shaking, and breathing heavily. He nodded, gripping the chair tightly, wishing he could dissolve into the old wood so he didn't have to be here. However, we can all wish for something but we don't all get... what we wished for. Harry was choking back tears of his own. He refused to believe it. Draco couldn't be dead. No. He couldn't...

"No. You're lying... is this some practical joke? Is this a prank?!" He breathed, as he jumped to his feet hysterical.

"On the subject of pranks..." The man said calmly, gesturing Harry to sit back down. "Do you think what you did was funny?" He looked over at Ron, addressing him as well. The two boys shook their heads, looking at each other. The man snapped his fingers. "Ey, I'm here."

The two looked back at him, swallowing nervously, hearts racing.

"Yes, you do. Come on, let's laugh. This is funny, right? I mean, he was just a suffering, suicidal teen who wanted comfort. He's asking for too much, so why not finish him off, right? Funny?" He laughed hysterically, basically breathing the words. He was in so much shock and rage he was finding it hard to control himself. He couldn't understand how someone could do something like this.

Harry put his face in his hands, tearing up. He didn't want this anymore. He regretted so much. He couldn't put up with this. He felt so horrible. So very sick. Only now was he realising the situation he was in. Only now was he realising what was going on. All he wanted to do was cry. He loved Draco. For god's sake, he loved him. But the people around him influenced him so bad... bored so deep into his brain with their words... he ended up killing him. Maybe it wasn't him, but he was the reason. Love aside, he grew up with Draco. Seeing his smug grins. Sharing classes with him. Fighting in the same damn war, together. It wasn't Draco's fault Harry's parents died. It wasn't Draco's fault Dumbledore died. It wasn't Draco's fault he grew up into a selfish priss.

It wasn't his fault he wanted love.

After what seemed like hours, Harry looked up at the man and put his hands on the table. Ron looked freaked out, pale as snow. He didn't want to go to jail. He knew that look on Harry's face. It was the look of complete defeat. He grabbed his friend by the shirt, trying to stop him from what he was about to do.

The minister pointed his wand at Ron, not breaking eye contact with Harry as he encouraged him to continue. The redhead put his hands up in defence, but the minister kept his want pointed at him.

"Yes, mister Potter?"

That night Harry told everything. Every little gitty encounter he had with Draco and his family since that first day on the train. He told of his griefs and his loss. Of how he was influenced by it all to commit this... crime. He admitted to be the one who abused him. Yet of course, not matter how hard Ron wanted to stay out of this, he got his share of trouble. Harry told everything. Everything he was told. Everything he did... Everything they did.

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That night, a lot had happened. They held a funeral for Draco with the entire school. A black wooden table was set up in the great hall with two Slytherin banners, flowers, a picture of Draco and a leather notebook which friends and those who cared for him could use to write things for him.

Harry and Ron were allowed to write last things for him on a special page bookmarked just for them. Hermione was also allowed. Naturally, she took up most of the page to write her apologies and wishes. Ron passed up on the offer. He couldn't handle the pressure. On top of the whole investigation thing, he received a hard time with Hermione who said she will see him only precisely 4 years after he will be let out of prison. With that, he was cuffed. Hermione was left to stay at the school and was awarded for actually trying to help somehow and for one way or another, eventually telling the staff.

It was now Harry's turn. The authorities had their wands at the ready, prepared to take them away. One of his arms was already cuffed, one free so he can write. His hand was shaking. Sirens were wailing. Students were muttering... shame was weighing him down. His vision was blurry from the tears. He looked at his shaky hand and the faint message scarred into his skin. "I must not tell lies."

With that, he pressed the pen to the paper and wrote. With that, both he and Ron were gone along with the authorities with a flick of a wand.

You must be wondering what he wrote on that paper, right? I'll tell you. He wrote the one thing he wished he could tell Draco all this time. The one thing he wished he had told him when he still had the chance. He wrote the greatest truth he ever knew.

"I'm sorry"

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