3rd July 1993
Oh my god. What I have done? Harry what have you done? Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
He was crumpled like a sack of potatoes. Blood had cracked against the wall. It was dripping, staining everything.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He was so pale. He hadn't even been that pale then when Hagrid threatened him.
I stared at my hands. It was wrong that they should be so clean. They should be just as red as the wall now was.
5th July 1993
I stared at the ceiling of my room. The sounds of the bar below drifted up as a background buzz and low murmurs. A part of me wonders if any of my friends are down there, on the way to Diagon Alley. A larger part of me whispers that I've been found out. That they're going to take me away and lock me in Azkaban. Snap my wand.
A chill runs down my spine and I grip my wand.
They can't know. There's no evidence. I made sure not to leave any evidence.
31st July 1993
Finally, thirteen.
Dudley had been twelve when you killed him. SHUT UP. It's true. I wonder if anyone will kill you. Maybe it'll be that Sirius Black everyone's talking about. SHUT UP!
1st August 1993
In the muggle world, they don't call self-defence murder. Sometimes you can get off without a charge. I wonder if it's the same in the wizarding world. I should check. Just in case.
Tomorrow.
2nd August 1993
"What do you want with a book on wizarding laws?" sneered a voice.
I turned. Malfoy. "Why do you care, Malfoy?"
He raised a pale eyebrow. "I don't." He took a step forward. "But I can't help but wonder…" He smirked. "Has Gryffindor's Golden Boy done something naughty?"
I swallowed. "No."
"You're a terrible liar Potter." He paused. "So, what is it? Stole some decent clothing? Cast a few killing curses? Killed a muggle?"
I tensed.
His silver eyes widened.
"I didn't mean to!" The words were spilling out of my mouth before I had chance to stop them. "He was going to kill me! It was an accident I swear. I didn't…"
"Silencio!" Malfoy hissed, his wand pointing at my face. No noise was able to pass my lips. "Are you insane Potter? You don't just go admitting to murder in a bookshop. And especially not to you school rival."
I stared. My hands were shaking, and my body was trembling.
Malfoy grabbed my arm and began tugging me through Flourish and Blotts. "Stop struggling Potter," he ordered. "I'm not going to turn you in."
He's not?
"I'm taking you to someone who can help." He must've been able to read my question from my expression as he then clarified, somewhat darkly, "My father."