Finding Nothing

Harry sat at the windowsill, hands absently tracing the raindrops as they ran down the window. It was a dreary, cold, hollow day, and his heart was heavy with empty thoughts and unwelcome dreams. Having long since given up on being free of this curse, this prophecy, he'd finally become lost in the need to defeat Voldemort. It was an overwhelming and sickening feeling, and it had completely corrupted him until he'd become a shell of who he once was. Even Ron and Hermione had taken to avoiding him for fear of his wrath.

Now, here he sat, mind lost and unsure. It had been three days since he'd freed himself of the prophecy with the help of his acquaintances. He didn't have friends anymore. Not since he'd found out the truth, not since Sirius had died. Even knowing that Sirius was gone didn't mean that he'd given up hope. Only now that he was free of this burden did he realize that Sirius wasn't coming back to save him, and that he was truly alone.

'Help me,' he thought at no one. 'I'm lost. Can't you see me?' And yet there was no voice answering back. The rain continued to fall outside in sheets as if crying the tears that would not fall from Harry's own eyes. This shattered boy, and a boy he was, could not find it in himself to seek out someone else's company after avoiding them for so long.

There were losses on both sides of this war, and yet Harry could feel no regret for their lives. 'Where did I go? Who am I? Who have I become?' Deep in his mind, Harry hated this person he'd become - hated him violently and desperately, but he could not separate these two sides of himself as much as he wished that he could.

At seventeen, he should have been worrying about graduating and the real world beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but Harry knew enough about real life now that no one worried about what he would do with his life. Only Harry seemed so unsure. Of course, no one saw this side of him, no one wanted to see this side of him. They avoided him in hopes that they could ignore the darkness taking over the soul of Boy Who Lived.

'I'm empty. I'm cold. Save me. Can anyone hear me?' And there was. . .

"Potter? What are you doing here?" Snape's voice was cold as always, but there was a vague hint of concern hidden behind it.

"Nothing, Professor. I'm doing nothing."

Snape eyed him strangely. "Very well. If you would be so kind as to join us, it is rather cold up here."

At Snape's look, Harry smiled.

fin

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