Warning: Book 6 compliant. Angsty!Harry.
Sidmaicler: I don't know if I would even want to claim such a morose Harry Potter even if I did own him… Who am I trying to fool?
The anger had came and gone, and would most likely come again, but all he felt now was anguish.
Sorrow.
Despair
Loneliness.
It mattered not that Ron and Hermione were with him constantly, that he was never physically alone. It was if they were afraid he would follow his mentor into the next great adventure by his own hands if he were to breathe without one of them present.
He did not have any room for hatred at this moment, although at times the hatred would swell in his heart enough for a million crucios.
He had his "brother" and his "sister" and one who's heart could lay next to his for the rest of time, but there was still a huge hole inside him; like someone had taken a muggle sledgehammer to his chest; to his very soul.
At times he felt like he was dieing, as if all the air was being sucked out of the room, out of his lungs, oxygen deficient. Analytically he suspected that the real story he still didn't know, but the heart knows no logic.
Hermione gave him a notebook that had charms on it so that anyone that didn't have the soul of one Harry James Potter couldn't read it, and if they tried to decipher the charms they would start on fire until they dropped the book. It was blank on the inside, and he understood that it was to be a journal.
He wrote god-awful poetry and little untitled blurbs that mentioned no one by name. He still didn't trust the charms to hold true and did not want sensitive information to be leaked to anyone.
Still Hermione was glad and slightly gratified that he was pouring out at least part of his troubles to something, even if it was a notebook. He was glad he made Hermione happy, so he kept doing it, writing stupid stuff that really wasn't stupid.
In order for no one to understand his writings, he made code names for each person that only he would get. Clueless was Ron, which was self explanatory, Matter was Hermione, as in Mind over Matter, and Ginny was the Captain, for reasons he himself could not explain; it just seemed to fit. Malfoy was White, as that was the color of his hair and the ferrets' fur, and Snape was Black. He still hadn't managed to write about Dumbledore, but he was all ready with a code name in case he decided to: Soul.
An entry might read: oh how I hate black and white! The captain was talking about it the other day with clueless, but without matter and when matter found out clueless lived up to the title. I wonder what snuffles would have thought or even Sou….
He couldn't bring himself to write the name, code or otherwise. It would just bring home the fact that he was gone.
Gone.
Gone like Mum and Dad.
Gone like Cedric.
Gone like Sirius.
The soul of Hogwarts was gone.
He had no tears left, the time to cry had, in his mind, passed. It was time for action.
Sixth Year was over.
The Seventh Year had begun.