Harry Potter and the Descent into Madness

Chapter 1: Doubt part 1

Harry Potter

I stare at my wand, twisting it around in my hand. Crucio. I remember the pain I caused in retribution for Sirius's death. Sirius's death.

Worth it.

I stand, looking around the room. Empty spaces where there should be people. People who wouldn't be lost if the ministry had done its job correctly.

At the end of this past year in the Hogwarts School for Magic, my best friends, Ron and Hermione, and I ended up at the Ministry of Magic, with Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley to save Sirius Black.

It was a trap. Sirius wasn't there. We fought for our lives, but Sirius and some others had to come and save us. Pitiful. If we hadn't been so weak, if I hadn't been so soft, Sirius would still be alive.

Bellatrix LeStrange killed him. Crucio, crucio, crucio.

It hadn't been enough. Bellatrix didn't regret his death. After I chased her, finally leaving her incapacitated in pain, in turns reveling in and horrified by the sick thrills running through me. Footsteps stopped me, and she got away.

Dumbledore never showed up, and neither did Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore never stopped to see me afterward, either.

I was too vulnerable to help myself, too feeble to save Sirius, and too soft to protect my friends.

My classes and resources weren't enough. I needed more.

At that, a 13-year-old boy walks in, blonde hair framing his face aristocratically. His face is round, his nose small and button-like, and his eyes an iridescent violet-blue. He would be a beautiful boy if it weren't for his cold eyes.

They were too cold for a thirteen-year-old.