Author Note: I don't own anything from Harry Potter. Please enjoy, this story just hit me out of the blue and I wanted it out of my head.
Alone. At. The. Altar.
No one wants to be in such a situation. Well unless someone has orchestrated it that way. Possibly to escape the entanglement itself. It is the victim that does not wish to be in that position.
That is the position where Harry James Potter found himself. On a cold, cold, cold December Day, clouds in the sky, snow following in torrents, a storm was brewing. And it was brewing for Harry, for it matched his state of distress by the time noon had arrived.
He sat defeated on the step of the altar. The magical minister stood to the side being talked to by a frustrated wizard with white blonde hair. Another tall wizard was ushering and politely dismissing the crowd of wedding guests from the Sacred Temple's hall. A furious and formidable witch stood just outside the entrance, where she verbally and magically kept the noisy, ruthless, and hungry media away from the young sad wizard. A toddler with blue hair was crying into the shoulder of a dirty blonde haired witch. The witch in question, was having the most peculiar reaction. While there were tears on her cheeks and chin, there was a small smile on her lips, and a relief in her eyes. She knew something, though no one had noticed yet to question her.
Even with all that noise, Harry sat silently, hearing nothing because his ears had numbed. His hands were slightly clammy, his shirt untucked from his jeans and rather ruffled. And his face looked expressionless. This was the defense mechanism that his relatives instilled in him as a child. To not show weakness, not cry in front of others, or he would get a beating. Well now he showed nothing of the horrible feeling coursing through his chest and stomach, the headache banging on his mind, eyes stinging and blurring his vision with tears, and heart pounding erratically like he was 13 again and falling towards the quiditch pitch while feeling the effects of a dementor attack.
In this state, his mind retreated and he was revisiting the events. What had happened? How it got him here? Why did they do this to him? Memories upon memories were bombarding his consciousness. It sent him straight into a dead faint.
The wizards and witches rushed to his side, calling his name, but he didn't hear. Because he was lost to them in that moment. Lost.
I decided to rewrite it from the beginning. Still keeping to the story line. With a few changes. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.