Jailor
By xTwistedMetalx
Summery: A prison can take on many forms, and really he will be happy to see it all end. One-Shot
Disclaimer: The character used in this story do not belong to me and I in no way shape or form claim ownership over them. They belong to the most talented JK Rolling.
Pitter, patter, scatter, run, rush, it's always the same. The sounds that echo through his mind, really he doesn't even hear them anymore. He still isn't sure if years have passed or only weeks. Time looses all meaning when there is no light except flickering candles, when there is no noise except the scraping of feet upon the cobblestones, and he wonders if you cannot see time passing does it truly pass?
But that is neither here nor there, and really it doesn't matter in the end for the same thoughts chase around his head over and over again, a never-ending circle of failure loathing and doubt, and sometimes when he can summon the energy he curses the guard of his prison.
Such an odd thing to call where he is now a prison. But he must guess that that's what this is a prison. No one comes to visit him, and he understands why, they don't want to be burdened with how he is now.
Sometimes if he closes his eyes he can still see the sparkling halls of Hogwarts, the students running about, robes flashing emerald, ruby, sapphire and topaz as each house tried to claim superiority over another, and if he tries even harder faces of those long gone spring to mind, Pansy Parkinson, Ronald Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger…
He wonders briefly if it's natural to feel this much pain while thinking of those who have passed, after all not all who his mind strayed to are friends. Breathing deeply he unconsciously moves his head to the side.
He can hear something stirring beyond the walls, something moving, and he is shocked to feel another emotion which isn't anger, grief of apathy, far to shocked really, it takes him far longer than it should to understand the foreign emotion, but when he does he almost feels light headed with relief. Hope! He has not felt such an emotion in enumerable days, months, years?
Screams? Yes that's what he can hear screams, so unusual that he can hear anything other than the usual pitter patter, and he wonders how long it will last, usually the prison he keeps stops him from hearing even the slightest of whispers.
He tries and fails to smile, as unused facial muscles give out beneath him at what was once such a familiar action, and he muses how odd it must look to see the ugly grimace that mocking replaces what should have been a light expression upon his face.
Another scream this time closer now and the mans eyes finally open seeing clearly for the first time in over six years, and Harry Potter can't help but laugh when the door to his room comes tearing open.
Finally its time to end this madness, time to free himself from his prison, time to end his minds thoughts time to kill his jailor, time to kill himself.
He knows its time for the final show, not that there will be much of one, after all Harry Potter hasn't used magic in such a long time. But that was neither here nor there, and really after such a long time trapped with nothing but his own thoughts for company and the pitter-patter of the nurse's feet, he welcomes the chance to truly rest both mind body and soul.
"Hello Tom, have you come to play?"