The darkening sky indicated Harry Potter's mood. His face was a solemn glare as he watched the red sun sink below the pine trees of the forest that he had once dared never to enter. The darkness he was feeling now, he was sure, could never be replaced. He felt dark, wounded, and hurt in every way possible that a man could be. The sky, slowly but fast to Harry, turned from a pinkish color to a pitch black, the color of his skewed hair. His mind became focused again. What had happened just then? Why had it all happened so quickly, so rapidly? His mind became unfocused for the third time since the incident. His train of thought had been thrown off its track. He sat at the windowsill for what seemed like only minutes. But hours passed and he didn't move. No one bothered him as people bustled in and out of the common room. A girl with bushy brown hair and slight buck teeth, passed with only a single glance at him while everyone else gave none at all. He bit his lower lip as he stared at an abandoned cabin amongst the mix of wild green grass at the edge of the pine forest. He couldn't help but lose himself emotionally. A wet streak slithered down his face and into his mouth. The salty taste made him angry and bitter again. His mind became focused. He knew exactly what had happened. It was all replaying back in his head like a non-stopping movie. His mind became unfocused and he could no longer see the detail of the pictures. But he knew what was going on. No one else had seen the incident, though rumors had flown around. A boy with bright red hair and matching colored freckles passed him. Harry didn't even glance up at the sound of the redhead's voice.

"Are you all right?" the redhead asked. "I'm fine," Harry mumbled and put his head down on the windowsill. "Go away, Ron," Harry said after he realized his redheaded friend was still there. Ron Weasley had almost said something but then backed away, figuring for the worst if he had. He ran up the boys dormitory stairs. Harry sat at the windowsill for still more hours, his brain focusing and coming out of focus time after time. Finally, he gave up. He couldn't figure out what had happened. He checked the common room clock. It was long after midnight, two hours past, it seemed. Harry had been up so long, his eyes had become blurry. He could barely see the clock but he figured it was two hours after midnight. He stood and his legs ached. He regretted ever sitting down. He slowly walked up the boys dormitory stairs. He could hear Ron and his other roommates snoring loudly. Harry past his bed and sat down by another windowsill but stretched out his legs. He looked out at the never-ending water that was ahead of him and ahead of the castle he sat in. He couldn't focus his mind and he was having trouble seeing. He stood and climbed into bed without even changing. He fell right to sleep.

Morning came quicker than he thought. Soon, Ron was shaking him awake. "Harry, get up! C'mon, Harry, get up!" Ron's voice said. Harry opened his heavy eyelids. Ron was standing over him, already dressed for the day. He was holding his books. Harry yawned and climbed out of bed. "You haven't changed?" Ron looked disgusted. "I was up late and I forgot to," Harry said plainly and crossed the room to the stairway. "Aren't you at least going to shower?" Ron asked, pointing to the bathroom door. Sighing, Harry nodded and headed into the bathroom. He showered quickly and changed into a clean uniform. After he was done, he followed Ron down the steps. The common room was crowded with every person in the Gryffindor house. Harry and Ron walked up to a bushy brown haired-girl who turned at the sound of their voices.

"Hey Hermione."

"Hi boys," she said. She was talking to a girl with red hair, like Ron. She had freckles and was a tiny. Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister, wasn't very talkative but Hermione Granger had her going on an interesting subject. "Did you hear?" Ginny asked Ron and Harry. They both shook their heads. Ginny pointed to the window, where several Gryffindors were scattered. "Excuse us," Ron said and brushed by. Harry and Ron looked over the windowsill to see a horrid sight. Across the new-fallen snow was a track of bloody footprints, coming from a puddle of blood that had gone so deep, it had turned the snow a terrible pink. "Whose is it?" Harry asked a boy with buck teeth and a scared look in his eyes. "Neville!" Harry said, shaking him, "Whose footprints are those?" Neville Longbottom struggled to speak. "Rubeus Hagrid's."