Title: Emotion

Summary: Harry just doesn't feel any more… can one of his best friends solve this problem? Three part HPHG

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original Harry Potter characters, places, or events. They belong to a very brilliant J.K. Rowling.

Part One: Reasons Why…

"Hello class! And welcome to another year at Hogwarts! So we'll start off today's lesson with a charm that I am sure will peak your interest. But first, separate into groups of two, please. Hurry now!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed excitedly to the Sixth Year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

Harry sat at his bench doodling a snitch on the top right hand corner of his blank parchment. He hadn't heard a single word that Professor Flitwick had spoken, and was currently concentrating on perfecting the Snitch's wings. He slightly jumped when he was tapped on the shoulder.

He looked up to see Hermione. She rolled her eyes at him with a smile and sat down next to him unpacking her things. "I take it you either didn't hear the Professor or you just weren't feeling your usual chivalrous self—making me walk over to you."

His eyebrows furrowed.

She rested her head on her arm staring at her best friend with a grin. "Well, I'm glad it was the former, I didn't want you turning Slytherin on me, Harry."

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes at his best friend. "That'll be the day, 'Mione. Sorry 'bout that. I was just…thinking…" he drifted off with a far off expression.

Before Hermione could reply, Professor Flitwick began talking again.

"Today we'll start with the Invisibility Charm! But only in theory I'm afraid. It is way too advanced to perform, but maybe if you decide to go on to a Magical University one day, you just might be able to perfect it."

Harry's head shot up. Now things were getting interesting.

An Invisibility Charm?

Now that was something he never heard of before. If there was a charm for it—then why did they sell Invisibility Cloaks?

"Now, I am positive that by now, you all have heard of an Invisibility Cloak, am I correct?" Murmurs of agreement sounded throughout the large classroom. "Could anyone tell me how the cloak is able to disappear to the naked eye?"

Harry's sullen expression softened as a familiar hand shot up next to him.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"The Invisibility Cloak is weaved from the hairs of numerous magical beings. Endangered magical beings such as the unicorn, the werewolf, the vampiral panther, and the silk of the web woven by the ivory arachnid. The magical properties of the items duel and eventually cancel each other out. It would remain Invisible for eternity if not for the Ivory's silk; which only allows the thread to disappear if occupied by an object containing some sort of power—which includes everything according to the physics of time and space."

Glee lit up Professor Flitwicks small features as he clapped his hands in praise. "Well done! Yes, well done, Miss Granger! Fifteen points to Gryffindor!"

Harry smirked at his best friend as he noticed her faint blush, becoming timid and reserved once more. Only outgoing when it involved facts.

Harry's thoughts slowly started to drift off once more as Flitwick began informing the class of the founder of the charm, the date and all those boring facts that didn't really catch Harry's attention much. He gave up trying to listen and went back to doodling his Snitch—thinking about his situation.

'Okay, so where was I? Oh yeah, the reasons why my life sucks'

1. My family is dead—the obvious reason.

2. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived—which comes with a job description of losing more people in which one loves, oh and I have to murder Voldemort or be murdered…

So that's three or four reasons in one but moving on…

3. My only living relatives despise the air I breathe

4. I'm not that good at school; not nearly as good as 'Mione

5. Speaking of school, one Severus Snape is my potions teacher

6. My vision sucks too

7. I feel numb…and that can't be normal.

Numb was a word that could describe the perfect Boy-Who-Lived. Not depressed, not angry—no he had already felt those on one too many occasions. Harry just didn't feel.

He could tell his friends were becoming fed up with his mood. They had made that plenty clear over the summer at Grimmauld Place. They had even gone as far as to actually shouting at him that they wanted to help him, but he was being too immature to let anyone through his 'emotional barrier.'

Seriously, what emotional barrier?

He didn't feel emotion that often anymore, so therefore how could he have an emotional barrier for them to break through? They looked too deeply into things lately…and it was most likely from hanging around himself for the past five or six years.

That could probably make the sanest man go crazy, at least in his opinion.

So…

8. I have a tendency to drive people loony… or at least paranoid.

But lately, to satisfy his friend's worries, he'd been trying to act like he felt emotion. But maybe seeking Malfoy out on the Hogwart's Express and shouting at him that he loathed the wuss of a ferret more than mouse shit was just a little overboard.

Oh well, it was convincing enough.

Reason number nine why my life sucks…

"Harry!" Hermione whispered loudly, nudging him in the side, "Professor Flitwick asked you a question!"

Harry sighed and gazed up at the professor and said in a monotone voice, "Sorry, sir. What was the question?"

"It's quite alright, my boy! Quite alright. But here is a question worth twenty points! When were the Invisibility Charm scramblers placed over the school?"

"I don't know, sir." he replied.

"Oh, come now! I'm sure you must have a guess?"

Hermione jotted down 1980 on the corner of her parchment with a small smiley face sticking its tongue out at him.

Harry felt the corners of his lips tug.

Whoa, whoa, whoa wait just a minute. If only for a second he felt… Harry answered, "1980, sir?"

Hermione smiled into her hand.

And Harry felt something in his chest jolt for a moment.

There it was again!

"Very good! Twenty points to Gryffindor! Now as you know…"

Hermione handed him a crumpled piece of parchment. It read, 'Where on Earth would you be without me, Potter?'

Harry dipped his quill into his ink bottle and began writing, 'Probably strangled in some nasty Devil's Snare.'

'Don't joke about things like that, Harry!'

'I wasn't joking'

'Harry, are you sure you're alright? You've just been acting strange these last few months'

'Really'

'Yes, really! Now spill, Potter!'

'Spill what?'

'Are you still sad about Sirius?'

'Not really'

'No!'

'Like I said, not really'

'Harry James Potter! Tell me what you're feeling right this moment then'

'Nothing'

'Come on, you can be truthful with me'

'I'm serious, Hermione. I'm trying to be frank here. I. Don't. Feel. Anything. And I don't think I have felt anything for months'

'So you don't feel any emotion?'

'Nope'

'How about now?'

'Nope'

'Now?'

'No'

'…Now?'

'Noooo'

'Now?'

'Damn it 'Mione! NO!'

'Oh, I see emotion there. It's called irritation, annoyance. Harry I think I know what's wrong.'

'Care to inform me?'

'Maybe'

'Are you trying to get a rise out of me?'

'As a matter of fact, yes. Harry…you feel emotion, it's just that you don't really bother to identify it. And you don't care because you feel as if there's no reason why you should.'

'Yea…'

'What, you don't believe me?'

'Not really.'

'Harry James! You can be so frustrating! I have no idea why in Merlin's name I put up with you.'

'Me either'

"Class dismissed! No homework on your first day back!" Cheers could be heard around the room as Sixth Year students from both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff hastily packed up their things. It was the last period of the day, and most teachers hadn't assigned a single word to be read or written, a slight reward for the hassle of their Fifth Year.

All except for Professor Snape. One foot of parchment on the properties of bluebell roots.

Apparently a main ingredient in the Dreamless Sleep Potion…Leave it to Snape to give homework that required lots of thought on the first day back.

Harry, unlike everyone else, slowly began to pack away his things. He noticed Ron and Lavender come over, Ron had asked her out on the train ride; they were telling Hermione about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend; it was in two weeks. For some reason, the school had decided to hold them every three weeks.

Harry had a feeling it was just somehow related to him. He had a slight suspicion that the teachers would be more accommodating towards him until he murdered Voldemort. Oh, how sweet of them.

Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and began walking towards the door. He heard several footsteps echoing on the stone floor as his friends rushed after him. He trudged along down the corridor heading for the Great Hall, his friends dutifully trailing behind him. He knew that he wasn't being fair—treating them like this. Don't you think he'd love to say that everything was all better, why don't we go play a round of Exploding Snap, and then maybe—just maybe we could all go frolicking through the flowers?

But everything wasn't alright.

Nothing ever was, and nothing ever will be. Even after he defeats Voldemort—that is if he defeats him— everyone will go astray and lead their own burdenless lives, giving him a short 'Thank you so very much for saving humanity!' and then departing.

And what will he have?

Maybe a few gold coins? Maybe a Harry Potter Day? Maybe a few biographies of his life—boy wouldn't that be a best seller. Having everyone read about every single detail of his Hogwart's years, they'd probably even sneak in that whole ordeal with Cho.

Wonderful.

But could all of the money in the world buy back his mother? His father? Sirius? Could all the money in the world bring back Cedric, or give sanity back to the Longbottoms'? Could every single knut, sickle, or galleon on the face of the planet buy back his nonexistent childhood? Erase the abusive ten years with the Dursley's—vanquish the five melancholy years at Hogwarts?

He didn't think so.

Life was just one screw over, and yet, every living being—every beating heart always ended up in the same place. But it didn't really matter anymore, come what may, his fate wouldn't change for anything; whether he saved the entire wizarding world—or not.

And with that single thought, he began to devour the mashed potatoes in front of him.

People always say to me,

Time will surely heal, my dear,

But what they probably don't know,

Is that—it doesn't, not at all.

The passing seconds, minutes, hours;

Only serve a single a single purpose.

They make things numb, surreal;

It's almost as if I'm not really here.

Happy smiles, cheerful voices;

Constantly encircle me.

But they never end the numbness—

It just grows worse…

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Well, was it good, bad, or ugly:D Please review and tell me what you thought. Hey, it's a step up from my relentless angst, isn't it? I'm making my way up to sickingly sweet sugar coated fluff! Sure, that would be the day…

Much Love,

Midnight Ryder