Chapter the Fifth

Re-Opened Wounds

It was about Midnight. Harry lay in bed thinking about Sirius and how he died. How could someone die by just going through a curtain? Harry thought to himself. What did he do in his life to make him.....Harry didn't want to think about it.

He thought about why his friends left him. He had done nothing wrong. He could understand why they kept their distance last year, with him being very mood-swingy and all. One moment he would be very angry and pissed at the world, the next, happy and joking with Ron about how ugly Professor Umbridge was.

Harry missed being a first, second and third year. He was so happy. He had friends, adventures, and fun. Now, he had no fun, no friends, and his adventures were no longer exciting. Back in the first year, his encounter with Voldemort, he thought of it as some big game. Like he was a super hero. He was invincible. He was on top of the world. After the third year, Harry began to see it wasn't a game, unless life was a game. Voldemort was out to kill him, that was all there was to it. He realized that in the 4th year. Harry never understood about Voldemort when he was younger. He thought of him as a rival of sorts. You know the drill- Anything you can do, I can do better. I can do anything better than you. Right now, of all times, is when he needed his friends. If this were back in the old days, when they still thought of him as a human......

That got Harry to thinking, was he human at all? He was flesh and blood of course, that was obvious. But did he have what all humans had, like friends and a family? No. So he began to think of himself as a sub- human, a lesser being. He was a.....sad boy. A sad, lost, confused boy who just needed to be loved.