Do not own Harry Potter.
POV changes every once in a while. Deal with it.
Regulus sat at the party, bored out of his mind. He was a little boy, only nine, and upset that his elder brother was out gallavanting at school when he was stuck with a whole bunch of people he had seen at least a million times before, in the same ballroom or parlor as always.
They all had the same tired expressions, frozen and twisted into looks of superiority. Regulus was in the corner, silently musing why they tried so hard for no reason. They were family, and family shouldn't work so hard to impress eachother.
All around me are familiar faces. Worn out places, worn out faces.
Bright and early for their daily races. Going nowhere, going nowhere.
My mother was crying. Tears ran down her bony, hollow face and I tried to comfort her, wrapping my arms around her stomach and pressing my cheek on her temple. Deep breaths feel from her thin lips, slight whispers of sorrow emitting from them. Father had died.
I'm sorry mommy, I whispered, hoping to stop her from sobbing any longer, but embarassed I called her that at fourteen. She looked at me with a blank face and said, You have no reason to be sorry, you made mother proud. I ducked my head and nodded, hoping she didn't see my scared look, or that I silently wished that I could never go to school again, never let her or my brother down.
Their tears are filling up their glasses. No expression, no expression.
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow. No tomorrow, no tomorrow.
I lay in bed, hands twisting in the sheets, eyes shut and watering. I laughed quietly when I realized that all my nightmares involve me living, and all my dreams end in a heroic death, with my brother beaming and proud. How pathetic.
I turned over and retched on the floor, knowing the next day I would no longer belong to myself. I would belong to Him. I hated when people were elaborately fickle, undecided, and maybe that's why, at that very moment, I hated myself more than anyone.
What would he think of me?
And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad. The dreams in which I'm dying, Are the best I've ever had.
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take.
When people run in circles, It's a very, very mad world mad world.
It was his birthday. His sixteenth. He was pulled from school by his all-too-eager mother, who ushered him from the Great Hall, along with his dark haired cousin. He didn't miss the knowing look his brother shot him, nor did he miss the lingering disgust and apprehension. He couldn't bring himslef to care at that moment though.
He was still waiting for what Bellatrix had told him about. The feeling of his blood pulsing through him, pride filling him up until he was lightheaded, and an overwhelming sense of justice flooding through his veins. All he felt was a small blister on his heel as they wound through the dungeons, and an overwhelming sense of separation from reality.
He remembered how he felt when he first went to school, and it was a similar feeling. Misplaced, confused, and in awe. But the doors opened and instead of Dumbledore, arms open in welcome, there was his Lord, eyes looking as if blood had drowned them. Unfamiliar faces sized him up in mixed approval and he was told, no taught, what he was obligated to do if he joined.
He joined anyway.
Children waiting for the day they feel good. Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday.
Made to feel the way that every child should. Sit and listen, sit and listen.
Went to school and I was very nervous. No one knew me, no one knew me.
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson. Look right through me, look right through me.
I killed someone. Simply walked over, after he had disarmed my wand, and put my hand to his throat, and held it there until I felt it stop throbbing under my palm. As my comrades murmured their congratulations, I wandered towards a room in the mansion I knew was full. We were in a mudbloods house, and I killed the father. Now I was going to the children's room.
As I walked their, I thought back to the man. I didn't know his name, but he was brave. He died fighting to protect his wife, but we had already killed her. My steps faltered as I remembered a distant dream. I was fighting to save my brother and dying for him. I wanted to die like that once, doing the right thing.
I stopped walking in indecision. I had reached the children's room and was staring at the door. I hated when people couldn't make up their damn minds. I kicked the door in and lit the room in green light.
And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad. The dreams in which I'm dying, Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take. When people run in circles.
It's a very, very mad world ... mad world. Enlarging your world. Mad world.