Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. All I own is my original characters and settings that will come up later is the story.
I am rewriting/adding parts of this story to improve it and get rid of inconsistencies. If you see any let me know. Guys, there are so many inconsistencies in this story that it's not even funny. Why didn't anyone tell me? Oh well. More have been erased at this point. Tell me if you still find some in these rewritten chapters.
Another chapter rewritten and extended. Tell me if it's improved if you've read it before. And if you're a 'virgin', so to speak, just drop a line and tell me how it's going.
----------
Harry curled up on his bed. The sheets were white with windows on them, showing different nature scenes beyond the glass panes. They didn't move. The landscapes and portraits on the walls didn't move. The room was square with the three beds in the corners and the door in the last corner. Clothes and books were strewn across the floor. Watercolors and pictures drawn with stick people were taped on all the walls around the framed pictures. The closet door hung open with sports equipment spilling out onto the floor. Every so often a basketball or baseball would fall free of the pile and roll across the room. He pulled the journal out of the nightstand and opened it to the page he'd stuck the pen in. The book was black leather and the lines on the pages were gold. They sparkled when you tilted the book in the light. He uncapped the pen tested it on the page. A real pen. Not a quill. He smiled as he started writing. He'd missed pens and pencils. They were so much simpler and less messy than quills.
The room is nice. It's big and has a lot of windows. It is so much lighter than Hogwarts. There are no curtains around the bed, and it makes it friendlier. My roommates are Kevin and Kyle. They're like Fred and George, only not family. They both have brown hair and blue eyes. Kevin is one of the boys that brought my trunk to my room. They keep trying to cheer me up. It's a nice thought on their part. They showed me around and explained how things are done. I watched a class on wandless magic. There were eleven people in it. It's the same people that always seem to be around. Apparently they are the only ones in the school currently capable of wandless magic. They keep mentioning the twelve. I don't know what it is yet. I don't know what I'm supposed to write. Mrs. Richardson gave me this journal. She said she understood that I don't want to tell anyone what's wrong, but she said if I couldn't tell anyone else I should at least be able to tell myself. I don't know if I can even do that.
Kyle burst through the door and cringed when he jumped. "Sorry." He tiptoed across the room, picking up his feet as far as he could off the ground and leaping across piles of stuff. He turned, stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes, before diving under his bed. He emerged with his books and stray pieces of plastic toys that they were building some giant contraption in the corner with. He placed the plastic pieces carefully in his bedside drawer and hopped back across the room. "Ta!" He slammed the door. Harry shook his head and turned back to the journal.
I think she's getting worried. I don't really blame her I guess. I haven't said anything to her since Snape and Lupin left. What is there to say? It's real, it's a premonition, or Voldemort's being a sadistic bastard and screwing with my head. I don't know which one. I've said a few things to the twelve, but it's nothing important. Just direct answers to simple questions. Lupin was scared. I saw it in his eyes. He doesn't think I'll get better. Or maybe he blames me. He thinks I killed Sirius. He thinks I'm crazy, unstable, that I killed him. He thinks it's my fault. Mrs. Richardson told me she wouldn't force me to talk about what's wrong. She said she'd let me work it out on my own, but how am I supposed to do that when thinking about it makes me sick?
He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He laid next to the journal so he could see what he was writing.
I sound crazy, paranoid. There's something wrong with me. I attacked Snape. I'm dead when I go back to school. If they let me go back. Maybe they think I'm dangerous. And are they wrong? Maybe I don't want to go back. I liked it there when I was safe. But was I ever safe? I got attacked my first year, second year, third--every year. I was never safe there. I just couldn't see it.
I haven't eaten much since I've been here. I'm not hungry. I don't think I've slept much. I can't make myself close my eyes. Every time I fall asleep from exhaustion he's there. Mr. Weasley really was attacked. It happened. But Voldemort didn't have Sirius. He put it in my mind. What about these dreams? Are they actually happening? Did I get a sudden explosion of divination powers? Or is Voldemort doing this to me? He wants me dead. I ruined his plans again. The ministry knows he's back. I'm in a strange place where I don't know anyone. I don't know whom to trust. He can get to me here.
Snape wasn't after the Sorcerer's Stone. He wasn't trying to kill me. But he hates me for what my father did to him. Can I blame him? I saw it. My father was a horrible person. My mother hated him. Everyone says that I'm like him. Do I act like that too? Like I'm better than everyone? That I can do whatever I want? If I do, don't I deserve to be hated? How far would he go? How much does he really hate me? Enough to--?
She's going to give up on me, send me back to the Dursley's. I know it. It's what they all do. They don't have to bother thinking about me if they shove me out of the way somewhere.
They won't let me come back to Hogwarts. I'm too dangerous. I'm out of my mind. Where am I supposed to go? I don't have anyone left.
Harry shut the journal and curled around it. The painting on the wall across from his bed was made up of swirls of color. Blurry, all the colors meshed together and seemed to shift faster the longer you stared at it.
--------
Leave feedback so I know if my writing is getting any better. Crosses fingers in hopes of reviews in her inbox.