Kimmy: A tracker? Or something that slowly kills him? Hmmm. . .well. . .I'm
not gonna answer that 'cuz it could go either way on both of them. . .if
you still don't understand what it does by Harry's Christmas, write me a
review for that chapter and I'll explain, though, I have a feeling you'll
know. . .
Leaf: You're not an H/Hr fan? That's cool. Just out of curiosity. . .what are you? R/Hr? H/G? If you let me know I'll tell you when I start a story with that couple, if you want me to. But, alas, if you're D/Hr I fear I shaln't be able to help you. Anywho, thanks for the review!
Laterose: ??? Body viewing? Is that what I think it is? Hmm. . .if so, no, not that! Something else. . .::shivers:: body viewing. . .good guess though.
TearsOfAnAngel: Cool name, by the way. Thanks for you compliment. . .I shall continue to update as frequently as possible!
Evil Willow: Whoo hoo! I love getting new reviewers! Welcome to my story! Anyway, yes. . .this is one of my heavier stories. The sequel should be a lot more relaxed. . .and amusing. . .you'll see why later. . .oops, did I really want to let everyone know I'm gonna write a sequel? Sure, why not? And if you think the blob was gross and painful now. . .just you wait a little!
Wanted: Love
Ch19: A Turn for the Worse
Harry sat on his bed with his curtains drawn. He couldn't really see very well but that didn't prevent him from staring. Not at anything in particular, just staring. Madame Pomfrey hadn't been able to find anything wrong with him, not that he had been expecting her to be able to. Voldemort was no fool; he wouldn't try something that could be so easily diagnosed. It was the next day now and his friends had gone off to classes again. And once again he had been forced down into the Chamber of the Founders, and after several hours of unsuccessful attempts of trying to perform any kind of wandless magic, he and Dumbledore had left, Harry a bit perturbed.
When he had gotten back to the dormitory the letter from the night before was lying on his bed. He had briefly considered burning it, but he had opened it. However, he couldn't seem to decide what the point was in reading the letter? It was still a while until his friends got released from classes, though, and he had nothing better to do. And even though he had read it an hour ago, he remembered every word of the letter, every single one.
-Potter-
Got away again, did you? I can only imagine how you must be feeling. It's an awful shame about your Mudblood girlfriend's mother's death. Just keep in mind that this is only the beginning. The longer it takes for me to kill you, more people that will die along the way. Don't worry, though. They won't be lonely. Thanks to you restoring my glory and power I've managed to eradicate over three hundred people. Go ahead, I've enclosed the names of every one. . .see if there's anyone you recognize.
-Voldemort-
As his eyes had scanned down the long list of people, Harry felt himself begin to drown in a pool of his own self-pity, regret, and guilt. He didn't even realize that there were tears streaming down his face. Nothing had gone right for him. Why was he forced to live that way? He thought about what Hermione said. She couldn't really love someone responsible for so much death, could she? No, she was weak from her mother's death. Soon enough she would see him for what he was.
Harry rubbed the spot on his hand where the blob had been. It was an odd shade of blackish-green but he had carefully concealed this from everyone. He was in no mood to have to deal with Madame Pomfrey. He picked up the list of people again and squinted as he struggled to read through the rest of them. Eventually he got to Mrs. Granger's name and he pictured Hermione's father's face as his wife died. As it had done when it happened, the scene seemed to play in slow motion. Wormtail's wand falling to meet its victim, the green light exploding from the tip, Mrs. Granger falling limp to the ground, Mr. Granger's horrified face, and Wormtail's smirk of satisfaction. He had been forced to relive this horrible memory every night he went to sleep, but this time something was different. It wasn't the same as it always had been.
These visions passed by his eyes again and again until Harry thought he could no longer stand it. He clamped his hands against his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to make the sound and sight go away, but only succeeded in amplifying everything. Soon, visions and sounds of the deaths from the others who had died by Voldemort's order joined, people he hadn't even seen before were suddenly dieing right before his eyes, over and over again.
Harry stumbled off his bed, taking his sheets and blanket with him. He had intended on going to the bathroom for he was experiencing strong waves of nausea, but a severe case of dizziness made it difficult to walk. His scar burned almost intolerably and Harry collapsed to the floor where he breathed heavily for several minutes. He scrunched himself up into a small ball and did his best to prevent himself from screaming out in pain.
He was beginning to wonder if this is what Voldemort had intended, that maybe the blob was something he had placed in the letter to specifically intensify the sensations and replay the deaths. Harry managed to open his eyes for a moment, only to see the last name on the list. He closed his eyes again and gritted his teeth together. He attempted to get up again, but found it impossible and fell into an uneasy, pain-induced sleep thinking, wondering when it had happened. When had Arabella Figg died?
When Harry awoke, he concluded that he couldn't have been out for long as he was still the only one in the room. He slowly pushed himself up and tried to recollect what had happened. He glanced at the letter's many pages that were strewn about the floor and suddenly remembered. As he slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, Harry thought about the letter from Voldemort. The longer it takes to kill him the more people that would die. What if one of those people was one of his friends? Harry had a feeling that that was exactly what he had meant. The door opened and the rest of the Gryffindor sixth year boys walked in. Harry looked up at them and felt his heart gain a crushing weight. He knew Voldemort meant what he said. Killing any or all of them wouldn't mean a thing to him.
"Hiya Harry." said Dean happily, "Missed you at dinner."
"Yeah, Harry, where were you? Ron got some good news." said Seamus.
Harry shook his head and stood up, still a little shaky, "Not hungry. What's the good news?"
In truth, he hadn't even realized the time; he had lost all sense of it from the first word of Voldemort's letter. And even if he had, there was no way he could ever set foot in the Great Hall again; he had been eating in the kitchen with Dobby lately.
"They finally got the new Ministry building finished. Mum and dad left to go fix up the house for Christmas." said Ron, smiling broadly.
"That's great, Ron." said Harry, giving him a small smile, which was as much as he could handle on his still slightly queasy stomach.
"You okay, Harry?" asked Ron walking over to him. Harry nodded but Ron didn't seem to believe it.
He leaned over to him and in a quiet voice so as not to alarm the others, "Is the blob thing bothering you?"
Harry shook his head and headed towards the door, "I'm going on walk."
Once he was gone, Neville bent down and picked up the black letter, "What's this?"
*********************
Harry left the castle and looked around, ignoring his mind telling him to go in to get away from the chilling temperatures and constant downfall of snow. He walked a little further until he came to a secluded corner of the castle and sat down in the snow which reached to about the middle of his chest. (AN: In his sitting position, of course.) His teeth had started chattering and he couldn't really feel many of his appendages but he didn't mind nor, for that matter, notice. His mind played over the letter again. Had all those people's deaths really been his fault? He didn't want to believe it, but deep down he knew he couldn't deny it. Voldemort had been able to kill them because of him. They had the same blood. Did that make him the same as the Dark Lord? Wasn't it as good as if he, himself, had been behind the wand, uttering the deadly words?
He looked down and tugged up his robe sleeves to reveal his wrists, covered in thin scabs. Perhaps he had had the right idea the night before. If only Dobby hadn't returned to take away his dishes so soon, then perhaps he could have succeeded in ridding the world of his miserable existence. He sighed and leaned his head against the stone. Night was coming. If he only had two more months and somewhat more days left. . .who was to say it was worth it to just live out those god forsaken days? Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. It gleamed in the diminishing daylight in a way that seemed to urge on his mind. His lips were now a pale shade of blue from the cold as he stared into the setting sun, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from the brightness. He ripped his eyes from the sun, and pushed himself up, wand grasped tightly in his hand.
He looked around and saw no one. If no one was looking for him at the moment, they would be soon. His eyes swerved back to his wand. The last of the sunlight vanished off it, but even in the moonlight it still gleamed welcomingly. He didn't know how long he stood there. . .but the longer he did, the more welcoming the wand's promise of eternal peace from all the drama he had been forced to endure became.
Somewhere deep in his mind he knew better than to do it, and it screamed at him not to, but Harry couldn't seem to hear it. He slowly picked up his feet, which had long since lost all feeling, and trudged through the snow, not taking the effort to lift his feet above the snow. If he was going to kill himself, he needed to do it somewhere no one would look for him. . .at least not until he was already dead.
Eventually he came to a stop inside of one of the greenhouses, (AN: Didn't I tell you important stuff was going to happen in one?) His presence apparently ruffled the plants inside the building for he was greeted by a ruffling of the plants. He walked down the isles until he came to an odd plant on Professor Sprout's desk. It had orange and purple leaves with an egg-shaped neon pink flower that was cracked slightly opened. Harry did have a wide range of spells and potions reserved in his mind, but he couldn't name the plant. A sweet smell was coming out of the flower bud and Harry reached his hand out to touch it. However, when he touched it, it snapped at him, grabbing his finger.
Harry breathed in sharply and withdrew his hand which took some effort. When he finally freed his finger, a portion of his skin was missing in a ring shape around the middle of the finger. He stared at his finger and cursed under his breath before knocking the plant to the floor, trying to ignore its terrible screeching at having its pot cracked. It didn't have long to cry out, though, for it soon wilted into a fine ash under Harry's unwavering, almost unearthly gaze.
For a few minutes he stared at the pile of ash. The rest of the plants had quickly silenced after their fellow plant's demise. Harry snapped his eyes away from the plant and raised his wand. Slowly, he pointed it at his chest. A feeling of déjà vu overcame him and for a microsecond Harry expected Hermione to come crashing into him, stopping him, telling him that it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't kill himself. It passed, though, and Harry was once again left alone, separated from everyone. Hermione wasn't, nor anyone else for that matter, going to come and stop him. Not this time.
He opened his mouth but no words came out of it, instead a dry, croaky sound took its place. Irritably, he allowed himself to drop to the ground where he reached into his robe's pockets and pulled out two things. The first was the handkerchief that Hermione had given him when he cut his hand on the glass in the last greenhouse he had been in. It was still stained a little red from his blood but he didn't mind, it still had her scent on it, anyway. He inhaled it and, for a long moment, dreaded having to leave her. He picked up the other thing he had taken out, his photo album that Hagrid had started for him in his first year.
Now, along with the pictures of his parents, which Harry passed through rather quickly, were pictures of him and his friends. Ron, Hermione, and him outside Honeydukes in their fourth year. Ron with his arms draped over Lavender's shoulder, both smiling at the camera. He and Hermione at the Halloween Ball, laughing happily, through their appearance. Remus and Tali toppling over Sirius's shoulders who had been showing them a diagram drawn in the dirt. The entire Weasley clan in a disastrous attempt at a family portrait. Harry had many other pictures of all his friends which he got to in time. The moonlight, however, wasn't being very cooperative and kept going behind clouds, leaving him little to no light.
Eventually he gave up on trying to look at the pictures in the dim light and put it back in his pocket along with Hermione's handkerchief. That was who he would be protecting by eliminating himself, everyone. No one would be safe until he was gone. Taking a deep breath, Harry held the wand to his chest and with one last shaky breath. . .
"Harry?"
Harry snapped his head in the direction that the voice had come from. Ron, Hermione, and Lavender were walking into the greenhouse. He cursed under his breath and crawled under Professor Sprout's desk.
"Are you sure he's in here?" asked Lavender.
"Look, I said I saw him heading over here, right? Well, he isn't in any of the other greenhouses, is he?" asked Ron.
"Can you believe what that, that----" started Hermione.
"Bastard?" suggested Ron.
Hermione looked at him but didn't say anything about it, "Yes, can you believe what he did? I knew we shouldn't have let him go. Didn't I tell you that he looked terrible?"
"Well it would have helped if you told me before he left." said Lavender.
"Would you two shut up? We need to find Harry before they do. I wonder what that git wants this time." said Ron.
"Do you really have to ask? Probably the same thing as before." said Hermione.
Harry clutched his wand close to his chest and held his breath. They were coming closer. He had to think of a way to get them to go away. Then, suddenly, a brilliant idea hit him. A spider was sitting on its web. Harry picked it up and set it on the ground just outside the desk. Then, quietly as he could, he whispered a hyped up enlarging spell. The spider grew to about the size of a house elf.
"Ahhhhh!" cried Ron, just as Harry had hoped, "Sp. . .sp. . .spider!"
Harry heard him rush toward the exit, accompanied by someone else.
"Wait!" called Hermione.
"Hermione, that thing's huge! Get away from it." shouted Lavender.
"Would you just listen to me? Reducio!" she said calmly. The spider shrunk and the two walked over to her as dignified as they could.
"Good job, Hermione." said Ron, patting her on the shoulder, "I was just getting ready to do that myself."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Would you two just listen for a minute? That was Harry. There's no way a giant spider could just appear out of no where like that. He's trying to get us to go away."
Realization dawned on their faces and Ron stepped forward, "Harry! That wasn't funny! Get out here, would you?"
Harry kept quiet, but in his mind he was chiding himself. He should had known that Hermione wouldn't be fooled by such an amateurish trick.
"We know about the letter." said Lavender.
Harry's breath started to become a little more panicked. From the sound of her voice, she was less than a few feet from him. He gripped his wand more firmly and came to a decision. He pointed it at his chest.
"Harry, what're you doing?" asked Ron as he peered under the desk.
Hermione and Lavender looked up from where they were looking and went over to where Ron had spoken.
"Go away, Ron." Harry said quietly.
"That wasn't funny with the spider, you know." Ron reminded him.
"Harry, come on out." said Lavender as she and Hermione bent down. Hermione's eyes, however, traveled down to the wand and where it was pointing.
Her face grew serious and she grabbed his hand and pulled him out before pushing him against the desk and poking her finger into his chest, "Harry. . .you weren't. . .were you?"
Harry looked down and Hermione's eyes narrowed, "You promised you wouldn't, Harry! Why!?"
He didn't say anything, but instead looked down at the wand. Ron and Lavender looked at the two.
"What---" started Lavender but was interrupted by Harry looking up.
"So what, Hermione? Why does it matter? Why not?" he asked.
"What's gotten into you lately, Harry? I know you don't think that killing yourself is the answer!" she exclaimed. Ron's and Lavender's eyes immediately started drilling into Harry. He had tried to kill himself?
"Why isn't it? It's not like I actually have much of a life ahead of me anyway. Why not just get it over now?" he asked.
"Harry, what are you talking about? You're sixteen! You have forever!" said Lavender.
"That's what you think. You read the letter. Why should I risk your lives when I'm just going to die anyway?" he asked.
"That mother fucker doesn't know anything! Remember the prophecy? You can't die! In a couple of months *you'll* defeat *him* and then life will go back to the way it used to be!" said Ron.
Harry snorted bitterly, "Yeah, for some people."
They looked at him, not understanding. When they looked at each other, Harry discretely tilted his wand to his chest.
"Avada Kedavera." he said quietly, yet still loud enough for the three to hear him and turn around in horror.
Author's Note: . . .Um. . .hi. . .don't hurt me! I promise to update soon! Christmas is in two days. . .I promise to update by Friday! Until then, I guess you'll have ta use your imagination. But can any of you guess what the blob is doing? Tell me what you think in your review! Oh yeah, sorry for not updating in a while, but is it just me or do the teachers all conspire to give fifty tons of homework and quizzes before break? I've been loaded down, but I have all break to work on my story! Please review!
Leaf: You're not an H/Hr fan? That's cool. Just out of curiosity. . .what are you? R/Hr? H/G? If you let me know I'll tell you when I start a story with that couple, if you want me to. But, alas, if you're D/Hr I fear I shaln't be able to help you. Anywho, thanks for the review!
Laterose: ??? Body viewing? Is that what I think it is? Hmm. . .if so, no, not that! Something else. . .::shivers:: body viewing. . .good guess though.
TearsOfAnAngel: Cool name, by the way. Thanks for you compliment. . .I shall continue to update as frequently as possible!
Evil Willow: Whoo hoo! I love getting new reviewers! Welcome to my story! Anyway, yes. . .this is one of my heavier stories. The sequel should be a lot more relaxed. . .and amusing. . .you'll see why later. . .oops, did I really want to let everyone know I'm gonna write a sequel? Sure, why not? And if you think the blob was gross and painful now. . .just you wait a little!
Wanted: Love
Ch19: A Turn for the Worse
Harry sat on his bed with his curtains drawn. He couldn't really see very well but that didn't prevent him from staring. Not at anything in particular, just staring. Madame Pomfrey hadn't been able to find anything wrong with him, not that he had been expecting her to be able to. Voldemort was no fool; he wouldn't try something that could be so easily diagnosed. It was the next day now and his friends had gone off to classes again. And once again he had been forced down into the Chamber of the Founders, and after several hours of unsuccessful attempts of trying to perform any kind of wandless magic, he and Dumbledore had left, Harry a bit perturbed.
When he had gotten back to the dormitory the letter from the night before was lying on his bed. He had briefly considered burning it, but he had opened it. However, he couldn't seem to decide what the point was in reading the letter? It was still a while until his friends got released from classes, though, and he had nothing better to do. And even though he had read it an hour ago, he remembered every word of the letter, every single one.
-Potter-
Got away again, did you? I can only imagine how you must be feeling. It's an awful shame about your Mudblood girlfriend's mother's death. Just keep in mind that this is only the beginning. The longer it takes for me to kill you, more people that will die along the way. Don't worry, though. They won't be lonely. Thanks to you restoring my glory and power I've managed to eradicate over three hundred people. Go ahead, I've enclosed the names of every one. . .see if there's anyone you recognize.
-Voldemort-
As his eyes had scanned down the long list of people, Harry felt himself begin to drown in a pool of his own self-pity, regret, and guilt. He didn't even realize that there were tears streaming down his face. Nothing had gone right for him. Why was he forced to live that way? He thought about what Hermione said. She couldn't really love someone responsible for so much death, could she? No, she was weak from her mother's death. Soon enough she would see him for what he was.
Harry rubbed the spot on his hand where the blob had been. It was an odd shade of blackish-green but he had carefully concealed this from everyone. He was in no mood to have to deal with Madame Pomfrey. He picked up the list of people again and squinted as he struggled to read through the rest of them. Eventually he got to Mrs. Granger's name and he pictured Hermione's father's face as his wife died. As it had done when it happened, the scene seemed to play in slow motion. Wormtail's wand falling to meet its victim, the green light exploding from the tip, Mrs. Granger falling limp to the ground, Mr. Granger's horrified face, and Wormtail's smirk of satisfaction. He had been forced to relive this horrible memory every night he went to sleep, but this time something was different. It wasn't the same as it always had been.
These visions passed by his eyes again and again until Harry thought he could no longer stand it. He clamped his hands against his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to make the sound and sight go away, but only succeeded in amplifying everything. Soon, visions and sounds of the deaths from the others who had died by Voldemort's order joined, people he hadn't even seen before were suddenly dieing right before his eyes, over and over again.
Harry stumbled off his bed, taking his sheets and blanket with him. He had intended on going to the bathroom for he was experiencing strong waves of nausea, but a severe case of dizziness made it difficult to walk. His scar burned almost intolerably and Harry collapsed to the floor where he breathed heavily for several minutes. He scrunched himself up into a small ball and did his best to prevent himself from screaming out in pain.
He was beginning to wonder if this is what Voldemort had intended, that maybe the blob was something he had placed in the letter to specifically intensify the sensations and replay the deaths. Harry managed to open his eyes for a moment, only to see the last name on the list. He closed his eyes again and gritted his teeth together. He attempted to get up again, but found it impossible and fell into an uneasy, pain-induced sleep thinking, wondering when it had happened. When had Arabella Figg died?
When Harry awoke, he concluded that he couldn't have been out for long as he was still the only one in the room. He slowly pushed himself up and tried to recollect what had happened. He glanced at the letter's many pages that were strewn about the floor and suddenly remembered. As he slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, Harry thought about the letter from Voldemort. The longer it takes to kill him the more people that would die. What if one of those people was one of his friends? Harry had a feeling that that was exactly what he had meant. The door opened and the rest of the Gryffindor sixth year boys walked in. Harry looked up at them and felt his heart gain a crushing weight. He knew Voldemort meant what he said. Killing any or all of them wouldn't mean a thing to him.
"Hiya Harry." said Dean happily, "Missed you at dinner."
"Yeah, Harry, where were you? Ron got some good news." said Seamus.
Harry shook his head and stood up, still a little shaky, "Not hungry. What's the good news?"
In truth, he hadn't even realized the time; he had lost all sense of it from the first word of Voldemort's letter. And even if he had, there was no way he could ever set foot in the Great Hall again; he had been eating in the kitchen with Dobby lately.
"They finally got the new Ministry building finished. Mum and dad left to go fix up the house for Christmas." said Ron, smiling broadly.
"That's great, Ron." said Harry, giving him a small smile, which was as much as he could handle on his still slightly queasy stomach.
"You okay, Harry?" asked Ron walking over to him. Harry nodded but Ron didn't seem to believe it.
He leaned over to him and in a quiet voice so as not to alarm the others, "Is the blob thing bothering you?"
Harry shook his head and headed towards the door, "I'm going on walk."
Once he was gone, Neville bent down and picked up the black letter, "What's this?"
*********************
Harry left the castle and looked around, ignoring his mind telling him to go in to get away from the chilling temperatures and constant downfall of snow. He walked a little further until he came to a secluded corner of the castle and sat down in the snow which reached to about the middle of his chest. (AN: In his sitting position, of course.) His teeth had started chattering and he couldn't really feel many of his appendages but he didn't mind nor, for that matter, notice. His mind played over the letter again. Had all those people's deaths really been his fault? He didn't want to believe it, but deep down he knew he couldn't deny it. Voldemort had been able to kill them because of him. They had the same blood. Did that make him the same as the Dark Lord? Wasn't it as good as if he, himself, had been behind the wand, uttering the deadly words?
He looked down and tugged up his robe sleeves to reveal his wrists, covered in thin scabs. Perhaps he had had the right idea the night before. If only Dobby hadn't returned to take away his dishes so soon, then perhaps he could have succeeded in ridding the world of his miserable existence. He sighed and leaned his head against the stone. Night was coming. If he only had two more months and somewhat more days left. . .who was to say it was worth it to just live out those god forsaken days? Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. It gleamed in the diminishing daylight in a way that seemed to urge on his mind. His lips were now a pale shade of blue from the cold as he stared into the setting sun, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from the brightness. He ripped his eyes from the sun, and pushed himself up, wand grasped tightly in his hand.
He looked around and saw no one. If no one was looking for him at the moment, they would be soon. His eyes swerved back to his wand. The last of the sunlight vanished off it, but even in the moonlight it still gleamed welcomingly. He didn't know how long he stood there. . .but the longer he did, the more welcoming the wand's promise of eternal peace from all the drama he had been forced to endure became.
Somewhere deep in his mind he knew better than to do it, and it screamed at him not to, but Harry couldn't seem to hear it. He slowly picked up his feet, which had long since lost all feeling, and trudged through the snow, not taking the effort to lift his feet above the snow. If he was going to kill himself, he needed to do it somewhere no one would look for him. . .at least not until he was already dead.
Eventually he came to a stop inside of one of the greenhouses, (AN: Didn't I tell you important stuff was going to happen in one?) His presence apparently ruffled the plants inside the building for he was greeted by a ruffling of the plants. He walked down the isles until he came to an odd plant on Professor Sprout's desk. It had orange and purple leaves with an egg-shaped neon pink flower that was cracked slightly opened. Harry did have a wide range of spells and potions reserved in his mind, but he couldn't name the plant. A sweet smell was coming out of the flower bud and Harry reached his hand out to touch it. However, when he touched it, it snapped at him, grabbing his finger.
Harry breathed in sharply and withdrew his hand which took some effort. When he finally freed his finger, a portion of his skin was missing in a ring shape around the middle of the finger. He stared at his finger and cursed under his breath before knocking the plant to the floor, trying to ignore its terrible screeching at having its pot cracked. It didn't have long to cry out, though, for it soon wilted into a fine ash under Harry's unwavering, almost unearthly gaze.
For a few minutes he stared at the pile of ash. The rest of the plants had quickly silenced after their fellow plant's demise. Harry snapped his eyes away from the plant and raised his wand. Slowly, he pointed it at his chest. A feeling of déjà vu overcame him and for a microsecond Harry expected Hermione to come crashing into him, stopping him, telling him that it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't kill himself. It passed, though, and Harry was once again left alone, separated from everyone. Hermione wasn't, nor anyone else for that matter, going to come and stop him. Not this time.
He opened his mouth but no words came out of it, instead a dry, croaky sound took its place. Irritably, he allowed himself to drop to the ground where he reached into his robe's pockets and pulled out two things. The first was the handkerchief that Hermione had given him when he cut his hand on the glass in the last greenhouse he had been in. It was still stained a little red from his blood but he didn't mind, it still had her scent on it, anyway. He inhaled it and, for a long moment, dreaded having to leave her. He picked up the other thing he had taken out, his photo album that Hagrid had started for him in his first year.
Now, along with the pictures of his parents, which Harry passed through rather quickly, were pictures of him and his friends. Ron, Hermione, and him outside Honeydukes in their fourth year. Ron with his arms draped over Lavender's shoulder, both smiling at the camera. He and Hermione at the Halloween Ball, laughing happily, through their appearance. Remus and Tali toppling over Sirius's shoulders who had been showing them a diagram drawn in the dirt. The entire Weasley clan in a disastrous attempt at a family portrait. Harry had many other pictures of all his friends which he got to in time. The moonlight, however, wasn't being very cooperative and kept going behind clouds, leaving him little to no light.
Eventually he gave up on trying to look at the pictures in the dim light and put it back in his pocket along with Hermione's handkerchief. That was who he would be protecting by eliminating himself, everyone. No one would be safe until he was gone. Taking a deep breath, Harry held the wand to his chest and with one last shaky breath. . .
"Harry?"
Harry snapped his head in the direction that the voice had come from. Ron, Hermione, and Lavender were walking into the greenhouse. He cursed under his breath and crawled under Professor Sprout's desk.
"Are you sure he's in here?" asked Lavender.
"Look, I said I saw him heading over here, right? Well, he isn't in any of the other greenhouses, is he?" asked Ron.
"Can you believe what that, that----" started Hermione.
"Bastard?" suggested Ron.
Hermione looked at him but didn't say anything about it, "Yes, can you believe what he did? I knew we shouldn't have let him go. Didn't I tell you that he looked terrible?"
"Well it would have helped if you told me before he left." said Lavender.
"Would you two shut up? We need to find Harry before they do. I wonder what that git wants this time." said Ron.
"Do you really have to ask? Probably the same thing as before." said Hermione.
Harry clutched his wand close to his chest and held his breath. They were coming closer. He had to think of a way to get them to go away. Then, suddenly, a brilliant idea hit him. A spider was sitting on its web. Harry picked it up and set it on the ground just outside the desk. Then, quietly as he could, he whispered a hyped up enlarging spell. The spider grew to about the size of a house elf.
"Ahhhhh!" cried Ron, just as Harry had hoped, "Sp. . .sp. . .spider!"
Harry heard him rush toward the exit, accompanied by someone else.
"Wait!" called Hermione.
"Hermione, that thing's huge! Get away from it." shouted Lavender.
"Would you just listen to me? Reducio!" she said calmly. The spider shrunk and the two walked over to her as dignified as they could.
"Good job, Hermione." said Ron, patting her on the shoulder, "I was just getting ready to do that myself."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Would you two just listen for a minute? That was Harry. There's no way a giant spider could just appear out of no where like that. He's trying to get us to go away."
Realization dawned on their faces and Ron stepped forward, "Harry! That wasn't funny! Get out here, would you?"
Harry kept quiet, but in his mind he was chiding himself. He should had known that Hermione wouldn't be fooled by such an amateurish trick.
"We know about the letter." said Lavender.
Harry's breath started to become a little more panicked. From the sound of her voice, she was less than a few feet from him. He gripped his wand more firmly and came to a decision. He pointed it at his chest.
"Harry, what're you doing?" asked Ron as he peered under the desk.
Hermione and Lavender looked up from where they were looking and went over to where Ron had spoken.
"Go away, Ron." Harry said quietly.
"That wasn't funny with the spider, you know." Ron reminded him.
"Harry, come on out." said Lavender as she and Hermione bent down. Hermione's eyes, however, traveled down to the wand and where it was pointing.
Her face grew serious and she grabbed his hand and pulled him out before pushing him against the desk and poking her finger into his chest, "Harry. . .you weren't. . .were you?"
Harry looked down and Hermione's eyes narrowed, "You promised you wouldn't, Harry! Why!?"
He didn't say anything, but instead looked down at the wand. Ron and Lavender looked at the two.
"What---" started Lavender but was interrupted by Harry looking up.
"So what, Hermione? Why does it matter? Why not?" he asked.
"What's gotten into you lately, Harry? I know you don't think that killing yourself is the answer!" she exclaimed. Ron's and Lavender's eyes immediately started drilling into Harry. He had tried to kill himself?
"Why isn't it? It's not like I actually have much of a life ahead of me anyway. Why not just get it over now?" he asked.
"Harry, what are you talking about? You're sixteen! You have forever!" said Lavender.
"That's what you think. You read the letter. Why should I risk your lives when I'm just going to die anyway?" he asked.
"That mother fucker doesn't know anything! Remember the prophecy? You can't die! In a couple of months *you'll* defeat *him* and then life will go back to the way it used to be!" said Ron.
Harry snorted bitterly, "Yeah, for some people."
They looked at him, not understanding. When they looked at each other, Harry discretely tilted his wand to his chest.
"Avada Kedavera." he said quietly, yet still loud enough for the three to hear him and turn around in horror.
Author's Note: . . .Um. . .hi. . .don't hurt me! I promise to update soon! Christmas is in two days. . .I promise to update by Friday! Until then, I guess you'll have ta use your imagination. But can any of you guess what the blob is doing? Tell me what you think in your review! Oh yeah, sorry for not updating in a while, but is it just me or do the teachers all conspire to give fifty tons of homework and quizzes before break? I've been loaded down, but I have all break to work on my story! Please review!