AN: My first time posting a story online so I am hoping you will like what I have written.
Disclaimer:I wish, oh how I wish but I don't own the genius characters created by J.K. Rowling, I just like to play with them.
Rainy Thoughts
Droplets of rain trickle down the window, the occasional person, covered by an umbrella, hurries past trying to get back home where it's warm. Bright emerald eyes watch sadly, wishing he could be out there trying to get home to loved ones. Wishing he had loved ones even.
Once he had, had people he loved and who loved him back, but as time had passed things had changed and they had forgotten him. They had stopped crying, after all he had done his job, he'd saved the world. After he had defeated the dark lord he had been told that because of remaining death eaters he had to go back to his aunts. No one had listened to him when he said that he didn't want to, no that he couldn't go back there.
When he had gotten back to his relatives house his uncle had been truly mad, he had thought his uncle might just have a heart attack in that moment. That's when the beatings had started, before then he had gotten a stray hit off his uncle and his cousin had done the worst damage, but something had changed. His uncle had this vicious glint in his eyes.
Two weeks into the summer holidays and he had known that he was never going back to Hogwarts. His uncle had come into his room yelling and screaming at him about something but his words to distorted by his anger to make sense. His uncle had, had a knife and had plunged it into his chest over and over again, until the world went black.
When he had woken up there was no more pain that should have been the first indicator something was wrong but he had just been so relieved that he didn't really think about it. He hadn't been able to find his relatives so he had assumed that they had gone out, but later that afternoon Hermione had turned up out the front of the house crying. He had lent out the window to wave at her but she had ignored him, that's when he had realized something was very, very wrong.
He had attended his own funeral hoping that someone would see him, but no one had. At first his invisibility had annoyed him, but after a few months he had come to enjoy it, he could finally be just him.
He could go where he wanted and do whatever pleased him, at least to a certain extent. How ever he always seemed to come back to that house. There was a new family living there, but he never really paid attention to them. He also liked to go sit beside his grave even though there were no more fresh flowers anymore and the old ones had rotted and turned to dust, blown away on the wind.
He liked his grave; it reminded him that once he had been loved, once he had, had people to hurry back to, once he had, had friends. It also reminded him that he had done something that had made a difference. He liked what that piece of stone said.
R.I.P.
1980 - 1996
Harry James Potter
A friend and a hero
May you find what you're looking for.