Behind The Mask
A roar of thunder crackles in the distance, causing a boy no older than 15 to look up from his spot on the roof of Gryffindor Tower, revealing a trail of tears running down his face. He had been contemplating the events of the last few hours that had led to him retreating to his current position. For you see, the boy is none other than Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, and not two hours ago he had been betrayed by his supposedly best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.
It all started when Harry awoke in the middle of a nightmare and noticed that Ron's snores were strangely absent. Grabbing his glasses off the stand next to his bed he looks over and notices that Ron's bed is empty.
"That's odd," Harry comments, a frown marring his face. "He doesn't normally get up this early."
Still frowning, he distangles himself from the cold, sweaty sheets and heads to his trunk. Digging through parchment, broken quills, his invisibiltiy cloak, and books, he finds what he was looking for, The Marauder's Map. After giving the password he begins his search. He finds Ron in one of the old abandoned classrooms on the third floor, but he's not alone. Hermione is there.
"What is going on here?" He wonders as he watches Ron's name pace back and forth, while Hermione's stays in place. Deciding to investigate Harry gets dressed, grabs his cloak, map, and wand, and heads out of Gryffindor Tower and makes his way to the abandoned classroom.
Nervous energy courses through him as he makes his way closer, he tries in vain to suppress his thoughts and calm his breathing. Pressing his ear against the door he can hear the faint, almost incomprehensible conversation going on between the two fifth year Gryffindor's. What he hears makes him freeze up in shock and disbelief.
"... Remind me why we pretend to be Potter's friends again," A male voice said in annoyance.
'Pretend? What does Ron mean pretend!' Thought Harry before he was interrupted by Hermione's answer.
"Because, Ronald, Professor Dumbledore needs us to keep him ignorant of his family vault and his parent's will, and to spy on him so the Professor knows what Potter is up to." Hermione enunciated in an overly bossy tone.
Disbelief. Complete and utter disbelief was all Harry felt.
"I know that! I want to know what we get out of it. I mean we follow that git around for years, risking our life so he can be in the spotlight, so what do we get?"
Disbelief gives way to shock...
"Honestly, do you not listen to what the Professor tells us? At all?"
"No, why should I?" Ron asks in confusion.
"Never mind. It is obviously too much to ask of you to pay attention once in your life!" Hermione all but snarls out, "but to answer your previous question, if we do our job right, you get to be Quidditch Captin and Head Boy in our seventh year. Also you'll get to own the Chudley Cannons. Ginny gets to marry him with the help of a love potion, and when he dies in the finale battle with You-Know-Who, your family and I will get to split the money of both the Potter's, and now the Black's, thanks to Sirius getting killed. I get to be Head Girl, the Potter and Black family library, and unlimited access to the Restricted Section."
...Shock turns to anger...
"Not bad, but as dangerous as it is to be around Potter don't you think we should get some of that now? Because that stuff is no use to us if we are dead."
"We are. After this year the Professor is going to start giving us monthly payments of two-hundred Galleons. Kinda like how the Dursley's are getting take 'care' of him." Hermione states smirking all the while.
...Anger turns to fury.
Harry pulled away, he had heard enough. He turned and left, shaking with fury. Blood was pounding in his ears. His lips curved into a snarl akin to that of a wolf. Sparks of violet colored magic were leaping off his fingers leaving pock marks on the walls when he touched them. A part of him was happy to actually feel something other than numbness. The rest was too focused on not breaking anything or anyone (a certain Beaver and Ginger come to mind).
Harry didn't know where he was going, until he found himself back in the dorms. Looking around, he has a flash of inspiration. Grabbing his Firebolt (ignoring the pang of sadness and guilt he felt when he picked it up) and opening the window, he climbed up onto the sill and looks around, he takes a breath...
...and jumps.
He climbs onto his broom and speeds toward the ground at a breakneck speed. The adrenaline starts flowing as Harry watches the ground get closer and closer.
100ft...
80ft...
60ft...
40ft...
20ft...
At 15ft he pulls up on the broom as hard as he can. The Firebolt groans under the strain. The broom acts like it might break it half, but it held. Harry's feet dragged the ground, for a brief second until he shot back up into the sky and angled toward the roof of Gryffindor tower.
Settling down on the roof he releases his hold over his emotions, and cries. He cries over the injustice of it all, the death of Sirius, the betrayal of his friends and headmaster and that he had been lied to almost his whole life.
Two hours later at dawn he is disturbed by a roar of thunder. Looking up at the horizon with bloodshot eyes, Harry stands up noting the pitch-black clouds heading his way. He gathers his things and heads back to the dorms with a single thought.
'Everyone thinks that they know someone, perhaps even better then that person knows themselves, but everyone at one point or another wears a mask to hide who they really are. Some do this to appear strong, some do it to keep others away, some use it to protect themselves, and some use it to fit in. Yes, you might know the one who wears the mask, but thats not the question. The question is why do they wear a mask, and who is the one that is behind the mask?'
A/N - If anything sounds like something from another story could you please let me know so I can give them credit. I've read so many stories that they all kinda blend together anymore. Thank you for reading hope you like it. Review and tell me what you think, and if you have somethink wrong with it get on a account and say it. If enough people like it i might continue the story.