A Silent Hell

As soon as Harry heard the click of the door, he quickly started scouring for something sharp, anything sharp. But the further he got, the tears fell more rapidly. When his sight was completely obscured, he gave up and sank back into his bed. But wrenching sobs soon escaped his mouth against his will. Madam Pomphrey had come and gone with the ruckus and decided to leave him in peace. As his sobs subsided, he eventually fell into an unexpectedly calm sleep.

As soon as he awoke the next morning, Madam Pomphrey checked him over then released him. He walked aimlessly around the corridors for a little time. He knew he should be in the Great Hall eating breakfast, but he wasn't very hungry. As he wandered, his thoughts drifted to the prophesy …and one must die at the hand of the other… That was his fate. He had to either be murdered or a murderer; neither he could live with. If he failed, all of the people who had died for him would have been in vain. If he succeeded he would have killed another human, no matter how cruel and evil he was, he would have killed another man. He wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing he had taken another life.

That's were his thoughts usually strayed over the next couple of weeks. Before he knew it, he was packing his trunk to go back home. Home. No, he wouldn't call it that. He was leaving his home; he was heading back to his hell, not his home. That sounded most appropriate.

"Are you coming down for the feast?" Ron asked Harry looked up to see his concerned face fixed on him. He was used to it now. That's all he'd been getting from anyone now. Not that he could blame them, he hadn't been himself lately. True, he hadn't had any cutting episodes, but he barely ate, usually secluded himself in his room, and lashed out at his friends more often than he would have liked.

"Yeah, in a bit." He said in a monotone. Ron gave him one more look before turning and heading toward the common room.

After a few minutes of checking that he had everything, he sighed. There was no escaping now. He had to go down to the feast, although he didn't know how his stomach would handle the food. It had been at least three days since he had eaten anything at all, and before that, he barely ate anything.

He headed towards the stairs, thoroughly dreading this evening. All the joyous people would drive him insane. He didn't think he could handle all the people enjoying themselves while he sat drowning in his misery, his never ending grief.

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked softly as she caught sight of him in the stairwell. All he did was nod and motion for the portrait whole.

"How have you been Harry?" Hermione asked trying to keep the concern from her voice.

"Spectacular!" Harry spat sarcastically.

"How long do you have to stay at your aunt and uncles house-"

"Who said he had to go back?" Ron cut across her

"I do." Harry said gloomily, ending an argument before it even began.

"Oh." Ron said, his ears turning red.

The rest of the way down to the Great Hall was traveled in silence. When they entered the Hall the Gryffindor table was practically full. They luckily found three seats apposite of Neville, Dean, and Ginny just as Dumbledore stood to make his speech.

"Another year ends, and for some, this is a grateful feat." At this he looked mournfully at Harry, "But I hope to see you all next year for another year of learning. And to those saying goodbye to use this year, I wish you luck for the future. Let's eat!" Harry started reluctantly piling food onto his plate. Oh Merlin how he dreaded this. As he started picking at his mashed potatoes a conversation was sparked between Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Dean. He didn't participate. He sat silently eating a little of his food. By the time he finished eating, he felt ridiculously nauseous.

"Harry, are you okay? You look a little pale." Hermione asked with concern weaved into her voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I think I'm going to turn in early."

"'Night mate." Ron said.

As he walked into the Entrance Hall, he was suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness. He leaned against the cold wall right outside the Great hall doors and will for his world to become steady again. But as his dizziness passed, his queasiness increased tenfold. He staggered up to the dorm and barely made it to the dorm bathroom before he retched violently.

When he was finished he slowly stood up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and exited the stall. He shakily walked over to the sink and washed out his mouth. He glanced up and looked in the mirror. He hated the reflection staring back at him. This wasn't Harry, this wasn't the person he was known for. How did he crack? When did he crack. He figured it had to happen sooner or later, but not how was he to fix it? He couldn't stand himself. He couldn't take being The-Boy-Who-Lived anymore. He couldn't stand being The Chosen One. He had seen enough. He had been through enough. He had seen enough people he cared about diminish at Voldemort's hand. He wanted out.

Out of pure frustration, Harry raised his fist and with a cry of aggravation slammed it into the mirror. It shattered under his fist, slicing his knuckles and causing a maniacal thought to cross his mind. Harry confidently picked up a piece of the shattered mirror, and with an unusual glint in his eyes slammed it across his left wrist, and then his right. This was it, he had had enough and now he was ending it.

Tears were slowly leaking out of his eyes as he pushed himself up against the far wall of the bathroom. It was at that moment that he heard the door open slowly and tentive footsteps followed closely after.

"Harry? Harry, are you – Merlin!" Ron stated in surprise when he saw Harry sitting with his back against the wall. By this time, Harry was so dizzy he couldn't keep his focus on anything. As he looked up, he saw the blurry image of Ron making his way over to him very cautiously.

Ron could see Harry's eyes were completely glazed over and out of focus. He felt a wave of complete and total helplessness wash over him as he looked at his broken friend. The strong, undefeatable person who he considered more of a brother to him than any of his own, was now crumpled and defeated on the floor.

"Ron -" Harry croaked, bringing Ron out of his stupor.

"It's okay." Ron said calmly, though he was panicking inside. So much blood on the ground. He had to get Hermione or Harry would be lost.

"Ron … I really messed up…" Harry stated as he stood up. Once on his feet he stumbled back until he hit the wall. Oh Merlin he thought as the strong sense of vertigo made him feel like vomiting.

"Ron, I'm so sorry. It just, oh hell, Ron, it hurts so much" Harry said through clenched teeth. His eyes squeezed tightly shut. He slid down the wall into the same sitting position. His body wasn't up for this, he wasn't strong enough, he could feel the darkness creeping in, he had to fight it. For Ron. He was always fighting for someone else. He was in so much agony. He knew he messed up, he knew that everything was completely screwed. He just needed to let Ron know he was sorry, that it wasn't his fault. When he opened his eyes, he vaguely saw Ron kneeling in front of him. Harry felt him take his wrist and sucked in a sharp breath as Ron tightly wrapped a towel around the gashes.

"I'm going to go get Hermione, she can help." Ron said in a rush. Harry didn't respond, he was trapped in his own mind, a strong fever coming about unknown. He was trapped in his own thoughts, his own grief that started this all … and maybe ended it too…

Now please, don't kill me, it seemed like a very good place to leave off. It was just too perfect, I'll post as soon as I can next. Please Review, I really appreciate it. Thanks!