Harry was sitting at a table in the Great Hall, waiting for the feast to end. He did not want to feast, the mood was steadily approaching the "disgusting" mark. The distribution passed by his attention, the hum in the hall acted irritatingly, like the buzzing of an insect. Hermione looked at him carefully and imperceptibly squeezed his hand under the table, providing much-needed moral support. Harry smiled slightly to show that he appreciated the gesture.
A little further on, Ron was sitting, pouting like a mouse on a rump. Harry had absolutely no desire to talk to him. After all! Well, as much as possible! Back then, when he needed help, Ron didn't send him a single letter. And during the tournament, he generally behaved abominably. If he really was such a friend to him, as he shouted about it on every corner, then he would understand that Harry did not want to participate in this stupid tournament...
Harry felt himself getting turned on. The mood deteriorated completely, I wanted to scream from such a vital injustice and ruin everything in a row. Harry closed his eyes and tried to calm down.
Inhale and exhale... Inhale and exhale...
It seems to feel better ... Fffuuuhhhh...
Harry mentally thanked Mr. Laszlo once again, the psychologist who helped Harry recover and who pulled him out of the hopeless depression. His lessons helped a lot. When Harry told him part of his story, Lazlo only looked at him for a long time, and then asked a question that knocked the ground out from under his feet:
'Who made you hate yourself so much?'
Harry then could only look at him with a fixed gaze... These meetings helped Harry to understand a lot. And most importantly, he was finally able to understand that he was not to blame for Cedric's death.
Harry woke up to Hermione squeezing his hand. It was time to go to Gryffindor Tower. Harry stood up and glanced around the room. The feast ended, the students began to disperse, Snape glared at him with a hateful look, the headmaster was still twinkling with his eyes, Malfoy was grinning maliciously at something against the wall.
Everything was as usual. Life went on.
Walking towards the tower, Harry reflected on how his life had changed. Here his name has fallen out of the cup - and everyone envies him, hates him, here he is the winner - and again the same situation. Tired of it! It's time to start doing something on your own! And he will start doing it right now.
Approaching the portrait, Harry muttered the password and went inside. The living room greeted him with curious glances and whispering. Ignoring this, Harry entered the bedroom. The trunk with things was already standing by the bed.
'Harry! My friend! Why...'
Harry turned and looked at Ron point-blank, shutting his mouth with one look.
"Why what, Ron?" Why don't I want to talk to you? Let me think... Maybe because I haven't received a single letter from you over the summer, or because I'm tired of not having you around when I need your help? Decide for yourself, you're like a big boy, you've grown up.
Harry turned away from Ron, who was pretending to be a fish, and headed for the bathroom. It was time to go to bed before he hurt someone. Seamus and Neville exchanged glances. Something has definitely changed.
Having drawn the curtains on the bed, and having put all the protective charms he knew on it, Harry tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep. He tried to relax and began to do breathing exercises. Inhale and exhale... Inhale and exhale...