I decided I'm going to tentatively give this another go. Try not to have any expectations too big, though. I also removed some other things that weren't going to add much to the plot.
I hold no claim on the Harry Potter or TSoIAF series, written by JKRowling and GRRMartin.
There is some gay stuff. It's not the main focus, but it's here and there. Oh, and there's Ron bashing. Beware.
He lay there for quite a while, long after they'd left. It was cold. Painfully cold. He recalled from somewhere in the back of his mind that it was winter, so that must be why it was so dreadfully freezing.
Even with the negative temperatures, he couldn't muster enough conscience or emotion to care. The most movement he'd done since they'd left was to curl himself in a ball with his torn-up uniform, barely doing the job they're supposed to do in both covering and warmth. Wasn't his magic supposed to kick in during times like these?
The bottom of the cloak had been blown off by the breeze, and all he had on were his shorts, not having expected to leave the warmth of the castle, resulting in the bottom half of his body being victim to the harsh temperatures. He was so tired. So done.
It was a group of three boys who were approaching him. "How about it, Potter? Let's hang out as mates for once." Ronald Weasley drawled.
"It's not like you have anyone to go outside with, as all your housemates are gone for the winter hols'" He added. "But then again, it's not like you'd go with them anyhow, with you being the lone wolf and all," Ron said, his henchmen at his sides.
Harry knew to be distrustful of them, as the trio was known to have a sense of… superiority towards their own house. It had been four years of bullying they'd put him through. However, to the Gryffindors, no matter what trouble they got into, the teachers always seemed to turn a blind eye. No matter what kinds of horrific things they did. That's what happened when you were not on their team.
"C'mon, Potter, what's the point of being called The Boy Who Lived if you're not going to live a little." The ginger said with a smirk.
That's the Gryffindor way of life. To be brave, foolish, and act before you think.
Harry was sorted into Slytherin the moment McGonagall called out his name.
The sorting hat didn't even get to sit on his head. It hadn't talked to him, never considered his opinion. It just yelled out Slytherin- despite his already brewing disdain for the house upon meeting Malfoy- who seemed like a wizarding version of Dudley.
Harry had arrived late to the station, the Dursleys dropped him off at their leisure, and he couldn't say a word against them. It was only by sheer luck when he'd crashed against the side of the walls in defeat that he found himself falling backward, right into Platform 9 1/3. He then met a boy on the train that he shared snacks with after they found his toad- Neville Longbottom- who had been sorted into Hufflepuff.
He had his own friends in his own house now and was known to be a prodigy in Herbology. He was also Harry's partner in that class and has been for the past four years they've been at school together. Despite his classmates begging for his genius to pair up with them in the class, he stuck with Harry. Neville couldn't do much about the Gryffindors, but he could sway the Hufflepuffs to tolerate him, and Harry appreciated that more than he could communicate. Now, he was with his gran, getting a new wand over the winter break, as his dad's wand decided to up and completely stop working for him right before the break. Leaving Harry without a friendly face in the castle.
"So what is it, Potter? Are you going to go with us quietly or have us torment you for the remainder of the winter holiday?" Dean Thomas jeered with a snicker, while Seamus Finnigan gave a snort.
The trio hated him. For what reason, he didn't know. They snuck pins into his shoes, put bookworms in his textbooks, stuck droobles gum in his hair, and spread rumors about him all around.
"Did you hear that Potter killed his own cousin when he was 9?"
"I heard he always gets in trouble for stealing things."
"Wasn't he the one who had a pet snake that almost killed the entire school?"
"I thought he was the one who joined the dark lord, despite the fact that it was everything his parents were against."
He hated them for spreading rumors they knew weren't true. He hated the headmaster for not helping him when he asked- begged for a re-sorting. He hated his head of house for hating him for no apparent reason. He hated his parents for dying and leaving him alone with the negligently cruel Dursleys. But most of all, he hated Harry Potter. For not having the courage to stand up, to protect himself. For not being the idol everyone wished for him to be.
"Alright." Harry agreed.
They went outside. The winter air was chilly, but he was wearing enough to keep him warm. As they walked down from the castle, they neared the forbidden forest. To the right was Hagrid's hut, and they kept walking further from the school. Weasley stopped in his tracks as soon as they got out of sight of the hut.
"Grab him."
Thomas and Finnigan, who were behind him, suddenly grabbed hold of his arms before he could react.
Weasley smirked, "You should know by now not to trust us, Potter. Though I suppose you've learned that the best way to get through all this is to just do as we say and not to complain."
Pulling his wand out, he muttered the stinging hex.
With the spell coming into contact with his abdomen, he winced, doubling over as much as he could in the restraints he was in.
"Potter, oh Potter, did you know that my sister," he spat out, casting another hex to his stomach, "actually had a crush on you in her first year?"
He waved his wand around Harry's face, pushing the glasses up with the tip, "You were only on the edge of evil back then, and nobody apart from us three understood how messed up you were. How you took enjoyment in pain and death." Another hex, this one to his face. He could feel it swelling up.
"Of course, she and the whole school realized how messed up you were when you killed her. Dumbledore couldn't find any evidence, but I think it was pretty obvious when you showed up with my sister dead in your arms, covered in blood." Three more, to his face. It hurt.
Harry wanted to protest. He wanted to tell him that he tried to save her, but she just couldn't be saved. Tom Riddle had taken her lifeforce with his Horcrux form and had left in the chaos after. Dumbledore had kept everything under wraps. He didn't want to raise alarms or any unwarranted suspicions about Voldemort. He wanted to tell him about how things were, but he wouldn't have listened or cared. He simply enjoyed tormenting Harry and would've taken any excuse to do so.
He stepped even closer and traced his wand along Harry's jawline.
"Such a pity. The way you turned out."
He stepped back and turned, making a grand gesture with his hands, "If you'd been sorted into Gryffindor, I would've had you so bad that I'd have been your best friend. You couldn't have lived without me."
"However," He whispered, turning back to face him with a sneer on his face, "I think I rather enjoy how it all turned out in the end."
"Weasley, we haven't got long till curfew." Finnigan interjected, "We should get started."
"Fair point, Finn." He said, grinning. "Petrificus Totalus." He called out, pointing his wand at Harry. "We've been needing target practice for those spells in the Prince's potion book, after all."
He knew he was going to die.
He'd been out here for too long in the cold, and his wounds wouldn't stop bleeding, no matter what healing charms he'd tried to utter. The darkness had long since begun filling up his vision. He just hoped that whatever came next would be better than this miserable life he carried out.
Staring up at the sky, he breathed deeply and slowly released it. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be saved.
And with the final glance at the many constellations fading into the darkness above him, he faded into sleep.
