Moonlight glints off a silver blade

That beckons to me from across the room

It taunts me with its jagged edge

Waiting for me to stain it maroon

Seducing me with the thought of my blood

I long for the crimson river to flow

Seeking comfort only my pain will give

Longing for a way out

I'm being held captive

They expect me to be perfect

And to fight for their cause

They think I'm waiting

For their applause

If I had my way I'd be invisible

A shadow in the background

Moving amongst them

Without a sound

I pray for death

Ready for it's embrace

I'm tired of being put

In their little showcase

A light in the dark

Shines through to me

Someone out there

Is setting me free

Who are you

That you touch my soul

So deeply buried in my lonely hole

I wish to know

Your lovely name

And why your not dazzled

By my fame

I will wait to end my wretched life

But for you, and only you

For with your kind words

My urges are subdued

But please answer me this

Why do you care

No one's ever bothered

With my welfare

The parchment drew back from a flickering candle light. I can't believe he responded. Thought the author of the first poem. I was sure he would just blow it off like he does most of everything. Hmm. I don't want him to know who I am yet. Maybe just send another poem? Yes, I'll write another one. A figure turned in the shadows and walked away from the stained glass window.

Harry awoke with a start. He thrashed frantically. Something was holding him down. He looked to see that his blanked was wrapped around his body in a vice-like grip. As he tried to recall what he had been dreaming, Harry scanned the dorm. No one seemed to have been woken by the noise he was making. Strangely he couldn't remember what the dream was about. He normally always remembered them, because they were so horrible the images burned themselves into his soul. But this time it was different. All he remembered was falling. Then there was a sharp jerk and he awoke. It made no sense, why was he falling? And what happened to stop it? With a sigh Harry rolled over and tried to fall asleep again.

The next morning Harry trudged down to the Great Hall, surrounded by all his laughing friends. Again no one seemed to notice that he wasn't participating in the conversation. Why should they? No one paid attention to him. He didn't exist, he was just a freak that no one could ever love. The poem that he had received the day before popped, unbidden, into his mind.

Why would someone send me something like that? Could it possibly be true? No, of course not. No one loves freaks and that is all that I am. I'm a freak of nature that shouldn't exist and no one could ever love.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts when an owl landed in front of him. When did I sit down? Upset at having lost focus and not even noticing that they had all seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, he opened the letter. It was another poem! What kind of sick joke is this? I asked them to tell me who they were only so I would know who was lying to me. Who was playing me a fool. Well, it wouldn't hurt to read it.

Oh Harry, my Harry

Why can't you see

I'm different than those others

I want you to be free

Each day I hide

And watch you from the shadows

As the light fades from your eyes

While no one else knows

Please believe me

When I say

I want all those that hurt to

To severely pay

How could they harm you

Such a precious boy

Why do they treat you

Like you're their toy

I know of the pain

That reflects in your eyes

A reminder of

All of their lies

You try to ignore

All that you've been through

But I want to help you

Start all anew

Please my little emerald

Let me into your life

It doesn't have to end

With your little knife

I know of temptation

And I beg to to ignore

The call of the blade

That you so adore

So won't you please

Hold out just for me

Don't end your life

When I can set you free

Love, Your devoted shadow

P.S. I know you wish to know my name, but please understand me when I say that it wouldn't be wise to answer your question. Knowing who I am might stop you from writing back, for you will laugh at me and call me a liar, the one thing I can tell you is I love you will all my heart, forever and always.

Harry stared at the parchment in disbelief. No, it's not possible. No one can love me! No one is allowed! In a fit of despair Harry jumped to his feet and dashed out of the hall, ignoring the calls of his worried friends. He ran and he ran, without any direction, til finally he collapsed in an old hallway. Why? Why me? Why is Shadow being so cruel? How could he lie to me so if he knows of my pain? Why does he want me to believe that anyone could possible care for me at all? It can't be true! I know its not. But then why do I feel the need to write back? Why does my heart hurt and my stomach flip everytime I think of his words? What is wrong with me?

Unable to hold the anguish in any longer, Harry softly started singing lyrics of a Muggle song, that he had never really understood until now.

Take my life, by Sarah Brightman

There's a river that's swollen with rain

You wouldn't guess that I've know so much pain

I have a heart, swollen with pride
You wouldn't guess what I hold inside
Oh, it feels so good to have you around
I feel the walls come tumbling down
I'm ready to change, ready to feel
To be revealed

Take my life in your hands
Take my love, be my man
I'm tired of all the lonely nights
I need someone to hold me in the candlelight
Take my life, I wanna live
I have so much more I want to give
I need a love that cuts like a knife take my life

With tears still sliding down his face, Harry stood and shakily started towards his dorm. He didn't notice the eyes that watched him from the shadows, and that glistened with answering tears for the boy's soft words. Then, Shadow too turned away and slowly made his way back to the crowded Great Hall. Back to all the people who hurt his little emerald, and back to the pain of their ignorance.

Ron: Harry stop crying!

Harry: -hic- Shut up Ron! -hic- Did you even read the story! Of -hic- course not! Now go -hic- away!

There, there Harry dear. All will get better in time. Now, Ron, since you are being so rude you will be responsible for the disclaimer, since I forgot about it in the beginning.

Ron: No! Why do I have to do it.

Because, -rests hands on keyboard- I hold the power to change your life, forever. So you see, Ronnie-dearest, you must do as I say or I just might write you out of the story permanently.

Ron: Heh, now see here, there's no need for that! Phoenix does not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, it all belongs solely to Mrs. Rowling, but Phoenix does lay claim to the plot line and any and all poems or songs whose true authors are not claimed before the poem or song itsself.

Draco: Hahahahaha the Weasel, bowed down to Phoenix! Hahahahaha!

Now, now Draco, no need for that. You're next. -Draco pales- Ahh, the joys of being an author.