Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not JK Rowling. Sorry
guys. Also, no copying my story, as it is MY property! Thank you.
A.N. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I hope you like it! I've been reviewing on this site for awhile, so go ahead and feel free to review mine all you want! And here's something that will make some psychopaths happy: Flames are welcome! I like the brutal truth! Hope you guys all like it!
Harry Potter and the Last Dance
Chapter 1: The Tragedy
The Great Hall was abuzz with the excited chatter of Hogwarts and its students. Students who, as a muggle might say, were not "quite right," or "abnormal." These students, children aged eleven through eighteen, were witches and wizards, and they were still in complete shock about the previous year, in which the evil wizard You-Know-Who had returned to power.
In a lonely corner at the far end of the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter sat silently, his face a mask hiding his true feelings. It may have been, of course, that his face simply didn't know what feeling to let show through, because he was experiencing so many at the same time.
First was worry, which Harry did so much lately he didn't need practice to hide it--he had gotten quite good at it over the past few months. He was worrying now, however, not over Voldemort's return or of his involvement with Cedric's death (which he had never really gotten over), but of his friends, Ron and Hermione. They had been called down to Professor McGonagall's office an hour ago during Potions, and by now Harry was wondering what had happened that called for such a drastic meeting.
Secondly was--well, Harry wasn't sure what the second feeling was. All he knew was that it was mixed in with the worry. 'Shouldn't they be back by now?' he thought desperately, staring at the golden dishes in front of him. 'I mean, I can see where Ron might be getting in trouble for that Dungbomb he set off in the common room last night, but that was a last- ditch effort to get everyone out, even me and Hermione. I wonder what was so important--?' But then, of course, there was Hermione. 'Why would she get called down to McGonagall's office? She didn't do anything wrong, and if McGonagall says she did I swear I just might--'
Harry broke off his train of thought. He didn't understand the third feeling either, which was anger. He was angry at McGonagall for making Hermione come with Ron. "But why?" Harry asked himself aloud, whispering. "Why do I even care?"
"Care about what, Harry?"
He jumped, looking up at the person causing a shadow to fall across his plate. It was Hermione, and she was smiling. "Afternoon," Harry said. "What kept you?"
He noticed how, as she sat next to him, she deliberately avoided his eyes. "Oh, that. It was nothing, really. Professor McGonagall wanted to--" at this she paused, as if thinking. "She wanted to go over that assignment she gave us last week, you know, the one on giving a pig wings?"
Harry nodded, though he doubted they had ever done that paper. No, there was definitely something else going on, something that was so horrible, probably, that no one wanted him to know. This only made him angrier, and he spoke his next sentence through clenched teeth. "Hermione, please, just tell me the truth."
He blushed, embarrassed because his voice had cracked again, as it had the annoying habit of doing lately, especially when he was trying to be serious. Hermione, though, didn't seem to notice. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and it was then that he realized she had been crying. Even as he watched, a single tear found its way out of her eye, slowly winding its way down her cheek. Her voice, full of sympathy and sorrow, escaped her lips. "Oh, Harry--"
Harry furrowed his brows as an all new feeling overpowered him-- dread. He had been right: something was horribly wrong. "What?" he asked, his urgency clearly visible in his voice.
He watched as she swallowed, trying to calm herself down. "Harry--" she started, a fresh wave of tears starting to come, "Harry, it's Sirius."
"What?" he asked again, now starting to panic. "What happened to him?"
"Nothing," she answered. "That's the problem, Harry! Dumbledore was waiting for us when we got to Professor McGonagall's office. He hasn't heard from Sirius for days, and he got worried. Today he sent a few people to the cave where he had been living, remember it?" Harry nodded, his dread starting to be replaced by true fear. "He wasn't there, but there was--" At this Hermione completely broke down, sobbing loud enough to be heard at the Ravenclaw table, where several heads turned in their direction.
Without thinking, Harry wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder and putting his hands behind her head gently. "Shh, Hermione," he whispered. "It's okay."
At that Hermione raised her head, rubbing the tears away with the back of her hand and shaking her head. "No, it's not. Oh Harry, it's horrible! Dumbledore said--he said they found Buckbeak." She looked away from him then, as if too ashamed to continue.
"Well," Harry reasoned, "that would mean that Sirius was just out, wouldn't it? He could've been anywhere, Hermione! Why are you so upset?"
Hermione sniffled again, but seemed to gather enough courage to look at him. "Harry, Buckbeak--Buckbeak was dead when they found him. He had been murdered."
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! THANKS!
LUV, ~ME~
A.N. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I hope you like it! I've been reviewing on this site for awhile, so go ahead and feel free to review mine all you want! And here's something that will make some psychopaths happy: Flames are welcome! I like the brutal truth! Hope you guys all like it!
Harry Potter and the Last Dance
Chapter 1: The Tragedy
The Great Hall was abuzz with the excited chatter of Hogwarts and its students. Students who, as a muggle might say, were not "quite right," or "abnormal." These students, children aged eleven through eighteen, were witches and wizards, and they were still in complete shock about the previous year, in which the evil wizard You-Know-Who had returned to power.
In a lonely corner at the far end of the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter sat silently, his face a mask hiding his true feelings. It may have been, of course, that his face simply didn't know what feeling to let show through, because he was experiencing so many at the same time.
First was worry, which Harry did so much lately he didn't need practice to hide it--he had gotten quite good at it over the past few months. He was worrying now, however, not over Voldemort's return or of his involvement with Cedric's death (which he had never really gotten over), but of his friends, Ron and Hermione. They had been called down to Professor McGonagall's office an hour ago during Potions, and by now Harry was wondering what had happened that called for such a drastic meeting.
Secondly was--well, Harry wasn't sure what the second feeling was. All he knew was that it was mixed in with the worry. 'Shouldn't they be back by now?' he thought desperately, staring at the golden dishes in front of him. 'I mean, I can see where Ron might be getting in trouble for that Dungbomb he set off in the common room last night, but that was a last- ditch effort to get everyone out, even me and Hermione. I wonder what was so important--?' But then, of course, there was Hermione. 'Why would she get called down to McGonagall's office? She didn't do anything wrong, and if McGonagall says she did I swear I just might--'
Harry broke off his train of thought. He didn't understand the third feeling either, which was anger. He was angry at McGonagall for making Hermione come with Ron. "But why?" Harry asked himself aloud, whispering. "Why do I even care?"
"Care about what, Harry?"
He jumped, looking up at the person causing a shadow to fall across his plate. It was Hermione, and she was smiling. "Afternoon," Harry said. "What kept you?"
He noticed how, as she sat next to him, she deliberately avoided his eyes. "Oh, that. It was nothing, really. Professor McGonagall wanted to--" at this she paused, as if thinking. "She wanted to go over that assignment she gave us last week, you know, the one on giving a pig wings?"
Harry nodded, though he doubted they had ever done that paper. No, there was definitely something else going on, something that was so horrible, probably, that no one wanted him to know. This only made him angrier, and he spoke his next sentence through clenched teeth. "Hermione, please, just tell me the truth."
He blushed, embarrassed because his voice had cracked again, as it had the annoying habit of doing lately, especially when he was trying to be serious. Hermione, though, didn't seem to notice. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and it was then that he realized she had been crying. Even as he watched, a single tear found its way out of her eye, slowly winding its way down her cheek. Her voice, full of sympathy and sorrow, escaped her lips. "Oh, Harry--"
Harry furrowed his brows as an all new feeling overpowered him-- dread. He had been right: something was horribly wrong. "What?" he asked, his urgency clearly visible in his voice.
He watched as she swallowed, trying to calm herself down. "Harry--" she started, a fresh wave of tears starting to come, "Harry, it's Sirius."
"What?" he asked again, now starting to panic. "What happened to him?"
"Nothing," she answered. "That's the problem, Harry! Dumbledore was waiting for us when we got to Professor McGonagall's office. He hasn't heard from Sirius for days, and he got worried. Today he sent a few people to the cave where he had been living, remember it?" Harry nodded, his dread starting to be replaced by true fear. "He wasn't there, but there was--" At this Hermione completely broke down, sobbing loud enough to be heard at the Ravenclaw table, where several heads turned in their direction.
Without thinking, Harry wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder and putting his hands behind her head gently. "Shh, Hermione," he whispered. "It's okay."
At that Hermione raised her head, rubbing the tears away with the back of her hand and shaking her head. "No, it's not. Oh Harry, it's horrible! Dumbledore said--he said they found Buckbeak." She looked away from him then, as if too ashamed to continue.
"Well," Harry reasoned, "that would mean that Sirius was just out, wouldn't it? He could've been anywhere, Hermione! Why are you so upset?"
Hermione sniffled again, but seemed to gather enough courage to look at him. "Harry, Buckbeak--Buckbeak was dead when they found him. He had been murdered."
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! THANKS!
LUV, ~ME~