He cried.
He poured his soul out to the clouded skies, getting drenched from head to toe in the pounding rain. He knew that when he got back to the castle, he'd have much to pay for; a cold would probably be the very least of it.
But he didn't care.
How could he care after what happened? How could he care after his life had gone so disastrously wrong?
If he could call what he had a life?
Firstly, Dumbledore. He'd always been an authoritative, if slightly eccentric figure towards Harry, and yet, he had left him such a hard assignment, giving no directions as to how it should be done. And now he was gone.
Molly and Arthur Weasley had always offered him a family, giving him equal status as their own children, their own flesh and blood. But now they were gone as well. Ron was still grieving heavily, but his grief had to be dealt with in private; his main concern now was Harry.
Hogwarts had given him a home as no other place had, but now he was going to have to leave.
He became silent, the salty tears streaming down his face, mixing in with the hard rain. He felt alone.
He'd felt lonely plenty of times before in his life. Like when he lived with the Dursleys. He'd had his Aunt and Uncle, and sure, he had Dudley, but they'd never treated him as one of their own. He'd always felt like the annoying, unwanted fourth member of the so called 'family', which of course he was. Another time was in his second year, when he'd been blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets. Then at least, he'd had Ron and Hermione with him, so he hadn't been completely alone. Just lonely.
However, then he used to feel lonely. At least then, he'd still had some hope. Now, he just felt alone. Completely, utterly, and totally alone.
A lone soul.
The tears kept coming; however he made no effort to stop them. He knelt by the lake, letting his tears fall into the lake, as the rain washed all his grime away.
He knew his friends would worry about him.
They would wonder where he had gone, and what he was doing, whether he was safe, and so on. They were up in Gryffindor Tower he knew, waiting for him to return. Only then they would rest.
He smiled.
In all his loneliness, in all his stress and misery, there were two strong rays of light by the names of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.
He was lucky to have them, he knew.
But he nevertheless felt alone.
Not lonely.
Alone.
