Disclaimer: NOT MINE
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It was evening, after dinner, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were outside, Mrs. Weasley a several yards away cleaning up after dinner.
"Want to play Exploding Snap, Harry?" Ron asked.
"No," said Harry. After a few moments, he added, "I'll think I'll just take a walk."
Ron opened his mouth as if to protest, but Hermione put a hand on his arm and he stopped.
"See you, Harry," he said.
"Later, Harry," Hermione said. "Don't get lost."
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said, "Goodbye, Ron. Goodbye, Hermione," and set off into the settling dark.
Harry walked away from The Burrow, from his friends, hands in his pockets, his right thumb running itself over the body of the pocketknife.
His thoughts hung for a moment on Ron and Hermione. They're so good to me, I don't deserve them. They didn't even follow me now, they let me be alone. I couldn't have asked for anything nicer.
And Mrs. Weasley... she was always so kind, she didn't need to be, no one needed to be. It's unfair, I didn't need that, I didn't deserve that. I don't deserve anything. I killed Cedric. If it weren't for me... Well, if it weren't for me Voldemort wouldn't be back either. And because he's back... well, there's no telling how many people I've killed. He's got my blood in him. It's all my fault. Everything is my fault.
And the Weasleys... they gave me so much. I didn't deserve any of that. They're such nice people... It'll be good for them, to be rid of me. *Oh,* he groaned miserably. I'm endangering them, too. When I'm gone they'll be safe.
And Dumbledore. He always went out of his way for me. He's so kind...
And so his thoughts went, going over everyone and everything he thought he never deserved, everything he thought he caused, until he'd reached the edge of some woods a great deal away from the Weasley house.
Harry walked slowly up to the woods and made his way into them. He didn't go very far in at all, and looked around before leaning against a tree.
He took the pocketknife out of his pocket, opening it up and staring intently, the metal gleaming in the moonlight. Harry slumped against the tree, thinking how he was going to do this. His mind wandered over the different possibilities for several minutes.
Harry stood up, still leaning against the tree. He took a deep breath, braced himself and closed his eyes, bringing the knife up to his throat.
Abruptly he stopped. He heard running footsteps approaching. Looking to his right, he saw a tall figure running towards him through the grass.
The figure stopped just feet from him, and Harry, realizing who it was, quickly closed the knife and put it back into his pocket.
"Harry," gasped Ron, "you've *got* to see what Fred and George have done!"
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It was evening, after dinner, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were outside, Mrs. Weasley a several yards away cleaning up after dinner.
"Want to play Exploding Snap, Harry?" Ron asked.
"No," said Harry. After a few moments, he added, "I'll think I'll just take a walk."
Ron opened his mouth as if to protest, but Hermione put a hand on his arm and he stopped.
"See you, Harry," he said.
"Later, Harry," Hermione said. "Don't get lost."
Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said, "Goodbye, Ron. Goodbye, Hermione," and set off into the settling dark.
Harry walked away from The Burrow, from his friends, hands in his pockets, his right thumb running itself over the body of the pocketknife.
His thoughts hung for a moment on Ron and Hermione. They're so good to me, I don't deserve them. They didn't even follow me now, they let me be alone. I couldn't have asked for anything nicer.
And Mrs. Weasley... she was always so kind, she didn't need to be, no one needed to be. It's unfair, I didn't need that, I didn't deserve that. I don't deserve anything. I killed Cedric. If it weren't for me... Well, if it weren't for me Voldemort wouldn't be back either. And because he's back... well, there's no telling how many people I've killed. He's got my blood in him. It's all my fault. Everything is my fault.
And the Weasleys... they gave me so much. I didn't deserve any of that. They're such nice people... It'll be good for them, to be rid of me. *Oh,* he groaned miserably. I'm endangering them, too. When I'm gone they'll be safe.
And Dumbledore. He always went out of his way for me. He's so kind...
And so his thoughts went, going over everyone and everything he thought he never deserved, everything he thought he caused, until he'd reached the edge of some woods a great deal away from the Weasley house.
Harry walked slowly up to the woods and made his way into them. He didn't go very far in at all, and looked around before leaning against a tree.
He took the pocketknife out of his pocket, opening it up and staring intently, the metal gleaming in the moonlight. Harry slumped against the tree, thinking how he was going to do this. His mind wandered over the different possibilities for several minutes.
Harry stood up, still leaning against the tree. He took a deep breath, braced himself and closed his eyes, bringing the knife up to his throat.
Abruptly he stopped. He heard running footsteps approaching. Looking to his right, he saw a tall figure running towards him through the grass.
The figure stopped just feet from him, and Harry, realizing who it was, quickly closed the knife and put it back into his pocket.
"Harry," gasped Ron, "you've *got* to see what Fred and George have done!"