A/N: Hi readers, I was inspired to write this story during work. I know I've written a lot of unfinished stories in the past and for all my loyal fans, thanks. Please read and review, I need all of the inspiration and motivation I can get.
Harry trudged off the Hogwarts express without saying a word to any of his classmates. After the funeral of his headmaster, he stopped speaking to other people. He had jogged up to the dormitory and packed his things magically without paying any attention to the order they had been packed in. He lifted his trunk off of the ground (with magic) and sent it careening through the common room. People who wanted to get ready early dodged out of the way of his trunk because Harry was not focused on the direction of his trunk. He passed through the portrait hole and walked down the stairs. He saw many of his friends including Ron, Hermione, and, most painfully, Ginny. She didn't look at him, but looked down at her feet. He hopped into the first thestral-pulled carriage and it went to the gate with him alone in the carriage He got to the gate of Hogwarts to find it unlocked from the visitors leaving Dumbledore's funeral. He kept his trunk floating along behind him until he got to the train platform. He walked to the back of the train and whipped his trunk into the luggage rack. He drew the shades down and locked the door.
He heard people slowly board the train and willed them to hurry up. He had never wanted to get away from Hogwarts in his life. No one tried to enter his compartment, either because they didn't want to bother him or they didn't know he was back there. After what seemed an eternity, he heard the engines roar to life, and the train begin to chug forward. He lay down across the seats and started to think. He could not and did not want to believe that his beloved headmaster was gone, dead. He wanted to run up to the white tomb to check if the corpse there was really Dumbledore's, not some imposter. He ran through scenarios of how his headmaster could have survived. Each idea was more ludicrous than the next and he had to make himself stop thinking about it because in his heart of hearts he knew his headmaster was dead. Dumbledore would not lead the world along for so long with a cruel hoax.
He looked out the window and saw mountains, signaling that they were getting farther away from Hogwarts and closer to King's Cross Station. His mind switched gears and he thought about his most hated rival, Voldemort. Every pain in his life was Voldemort's fault. His life had been different from everyone else's. His parents were dead. His godfather was dead. His headmaster was dead. His second family, the Weasleys, was suffering. Hagrid was on the run. His girlfriend Ginny was not able to be with him. His two best friends were alienated from him. He rose from the seats and glared out at the window. His vision was blurry and he shook with anger. The color of the speeding landscape was dulled and muted. He felt a burning in his hand and saw that red sparks darting from his fingertips. They danced around his wrists and palms, and then fizzled out. He closed his eyes, but still saw red in his mind.
All of the sparks died away, but then Harry got a piercing headache. His scar burned worse than he had ever felt before. He rolled and writhed on the ground, clasping his forehead. He bit his lip to quell the screams. He groped for his wand, the door, anything to help him. He didn't care if anyone saw him this way; he just wanted to relieve the pain. Harry then felt his mouth open up. He heard these words spoken, but knew he did not intend to say them: "Harry, Harry, Harry. Anger can be dangerous when not handled correctly. You have just forged a bridge that cannot be destroyed…" Harry fell into unconsciousness.
Harry's eyes groggily opened. He rubbed his head; his body felt like he had been plowed over by a bus. The taste of blood tainted his mouth and lips. Blood sat on his lips and around his nose. He cleaned himself up with his wand. He pushed himself back up onto the seat. The landscape outside had changed to familiar scene around King's Cross Station. The train started to slow down and Harry took his trunk down from the rack. He changed from his school robes to his muggle clothes. Hedwig squawked impatiently and Harry calmed her with a treat from his box. The train finally stopped at Platform 9 and ¾. Harry dashed down the train without looking up at anyone. His trunk followed closely behind his with Hedwig's cage on top of it.
He heard someone running up behind him, but didn't look to see who it was. His ears drummed with the sound of his own heartbeat. Suddenly, he heard his pursuer's heavy breathing close. "Harry!" a familiar voice shouted from behind.
He whipped around and saw his friend, Hermione. His fiery retorts and insults died in his throat; he could not mouth off at Hermione. She slowly approached him, stepping over the trunk. She stared into his eyes, green eyes burning into chocolate brown ones, and vice versa. Then, she wrapped her arms around him. She leaned up and whispered into his ear, "It's not your fault Harry; he would want you to move on." She sank down from her tip toes and grabbed his hand. She squeezed his hand once, looked back into his eyes, and turned to go get her stuff. Harry lifted his things again and that it where this chapter began.
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