REGRET (the aftermath of the 5th year)
Chapter 9
He was ready to leave in minutes. Since he hadn't unpacked his trunk, all he had to do was change into some regular clothes and he was set to go. He put his wand in his pocket and threw on his cloak. He left the hood down because he figured everyone was asleep so he didn't need to hide his face for now, and he'd wait till he got outside to put it up.
Before he opened the door, he took one last look at the room. Harry would have given anything to just stay a while longer, to enjoy his freedom, while he could. But he had lost that when Lupin has seen his face, and now leaving was his only option if he ever wanted to regain it. He sighed, then turned to the door and left the room before he could change his mind.
Outside the room was dark and quiet, and as he pulled his trunk toward the stairs, every sound he made seemed to echo endlessly through the building. He cringed when he saw the stairs; it wasn't going to be fun lugging the trunk to the bottom. He took each stair one at a time, placing both feet on the step, bringing down the trunk next to him, and then proceeding to the next one. After what seemed like forever he reached the bottom, and then turned back to the stairs and silently cursed them for having so many steps. He started toward the door but stopped when he remembered he had to give Tom money for the room. He placed his trunk flat on the floor, opened it and pulled out his bag of money, a piece of parchment and a plain muggle pen. He didn't feel like using a quill and ink when a pen would work just as well. On the parchment he wrote:
Dear Tom,
Sorry I had to leave so suddenly, but something came
up that I couldn't ignore. Thank you for being so kind to
me, and I do hope to see you again one day.
Your Friend,
Cedric Black
P.S. I hope the money I left will cover my room.
He folded the note and placed five galleons on top since that was all he had left to give. When he had closed his trunk and stood it up, he walked over to the counter and placed the note and money there for Tom to find. He slid his hand across the counter as he walked toward the door, pulling his trunk behind him. When he reached it, he placed his hand on the knob and his head on the door, and said a silent "goodbye" to the place he had called home, even if it was just for a short time. Then he opened the door, walked out and closed the door quietly behind him.
It was dark, as he had expected, and only various windows in the buildings around him were lite. It wasn't completely silent; he could hear cars driving in the distance and a subtle tone of music playing somewhere unknown. But the streets and sidewalks were empty, except for a parked car here and there. Harry embraced the fact that he was alone, no one to look at the weird kid in the cloak, no attention. He had a problem though, leaving was the obvious thing to do, but he had no idea where to go. He looked up and down the street to at least decide on a direction, and then something across the street caught his eye. He thought he saw something move, and kept his eyes fixed on the spot till he was satisfied that it was nothing. But he still felt unease and decided any direction was ok and began to walk slowly up the street.
Within a few steps he could feel something watching him, he knew the feeling well, but instead of looking back he quickened his pace. The sound of footsteps now followed him as well, and his heart beat faster with every step. It seemed like the faster he went; the faster the footsteps came behind him. His heart was now pounding in his chest, and his blood had gone cold from fear. He let go of his trunk and started to run, but only got a few feet before something struck him in the back and he fell forward and slammed into the concrete.
He wanted to close his eyes to help deal with the pain from hitting the sidewalk, but he couldn't. He wanted to lift himself; to move his arms or his legs, but not even his muscles seemed to be able to react to his will. He had landed on his right arm when he fell, it was causing him a lot of pain, he tried again to move to get the pressure off it, but his body didn't even react at all. He felt helpless, he was at the mercy of whoever had done this, and he hated it. His glasses had fallen off so his vision was blurred. All he could make out was what looked like his other hand, which laid a few inches away from his face.
He could hear their voices coming toward him, their footsteps getting louder, but all he could do was lie there, unable to run, unable to fight back if he had to, only to wait for whatever might happen to him next.
***
Chapter 9
He was ready to leave in minutes. Since he hadn't unpacked his trunk, all he had to do was change into some regular clothes and he was set to go. He put his wand in his pocket and threw on his cloak. He left the hood down because he figured everyone was asleep so he didn't need to hide his face for now, and he'd wait till he got outside to put it up.
Before he opened the door, he took one last look at the room. Harry would have given anything to just stay a while longer, to enjoy his freedom, while he could. But he had lost that when Lupin has seen his face, and now leaving was his only option if he ever wanted to regain it. He sighed, then turned to the door and left the room before he could change his mind.
Outside the room was dark and quiet, and as he pulled his trunk toward the stairs, every sound he made seemed to echo endlessly through the building. He cringed when he saw the stairs; it wasn't going to be fun lugging the trunk to the bottom. He took each stair one at a time, placing both feet on the step, bringing down the trunk next to him, and then proceeding to the next one. After what seemed like forever he reached the bottom, and then turned back to the stairs and silently cursed them for having so many steps. He started toward the door but stopped when he remembered he had to give Tom money for the room. He placed his trunk flat on the floor, opened it and pulled out his bag of money, a piece of parchment and a plain muggle pen. He didn't feel like using a quill and ink when a pen would work just as well. On the parchment he wrote:
Dear Tom,
Sorry I had to leave so suddenly, but something came
up that I couldn't ignore. Thank you for being so kind to
me, and I do hope to see you again one day.
Your Friend,
Cedric Black
P.S. I hope the money I left will cover my room.
He folded the note and placed five galleons on top since that was all he had left to give. When he had closed his trunk and stood it up, he walked over to the counter and placed the note and money there for Tom to find. He slid his hand across the counter as he walked toward the door, pulling his trunk behind him. When he reached it, he placed his hand on the knob and his head on the door, and said a silent "goodbye" to the place he had called home, even if it was just for a short time. Then he opened the door, walked out and closed the door quietly behind him.
It was dark, as he had expected, and only various windows in the buildings around him were lite. It wasn't completely silent; he could hear cars driving in the distance and a subtle tone of music playing somewhere unknown. But the streets and sidewalks were empty, except for a parked car here and there. Harry embraced the fact that he was alone, no one to look at the weird kid in the cloak, no attention. He had a problem though, leaving was the obvious thing to do, but he had no idea where to go. He looked up and down the street to at least decide on a direction, and then something across the street caught his eye. He thought he saw something move, and kept his eyes fixed on the spot till he was satisfied that it was nothing. But he still felt unease and decided any direction was ok and began to walk slowly up the street.
Within a few steps he could feel something watching him, he knew the feeling well, but instead of looking back he quickened his pace. The sound of footsteps now followed him as well, and his heart beat faster with every step. It seemed like the faster he went; the faster the footsteps came behind him. His heart was now pounding in his chest, and his blood had gone cold from fear. He let go of his trunk and started to run, but only got a few feet before something struck him in the back and he fell forward and slammed into the concrete.
He wanted to close his eyes to help deal with the pain from hitting the sidewalk, but he couldn't. He wanted to lift himself; to move his arms or his legs, but not even his muscles seemed to be able to react to his will. He had landed on his right arm when he fell, it was causing him a lot of pain, he tried again to move to get the pressure off it, but his body didn't even react at all. He felt helpless, he was at the mercy of whoever had done this, and he hated it. His glasses had fallen off so his vision was blurred. All he could make out was what looked like his other hand, which laid a few inches away from his face.
He could hear their voices coming toward him, their footsteps getting louder, but all he could do was lie there, unable to run, unable to fight back if he had to, only to wait for whatever might happen to him next.
***