A/N: The last two chapters were short. Deal with it. Random shit you don't need to know: I cried while writing part of this chapter. Anyways- Sorry if the letter last chapter was cringy (well not "if," it was the cringiest thing I ever wrote). To answer your question, no, I do not intend to give Harry a break from all this bullshit. Recap: Harry woke up in the hospital wing YET AGAIN (this time for blowing up the dungeons), he got his Christmas presents (I CAN FINALLY USE THE CLOAK IN MY CHAPTERS), he went to visit Hagrid, turns out Hagrid hates him! Enjoy the chapter and feel free to leave constructive criticism.

Tw: Death threat, counting to ten, trying to run from yourself, signs of insanity, arguing, feeling unheard&ignored, obvious disappointment & really sad stuff (can't go on much further without completely spoiling it so just proceed with caution).

Harry woke up. Sunlight was streaming through the large windows. He groggily sat up as he remembered it was the last day of winter break.

He got ready and went down to breakfast, yawning the whole way down. The number of stairs was absurd, especially considering it was a school. When he finally got to the great hall, he lazily served himself some kiwi amongst other things.

He looked up, it was still snowing.

He sighed and went back to eating. He decided he would go to the library until the train arrived. He set his spoon down and exited the great hall.

He had so much on his mind. A week wasn't enough time to take it all in. He killed someone. He actually ended a life.

His breathing quickened, as it often did when he thought about his run-in with Theodore.

It wasn't the fact that he killed Theodore, it was the fact that he killed Theodore. He walked faster, trying to outrun his past.

An unfamiliar, imaginary voice in his head chanted, "The little boy has blood on his hands, the little boy has blood on his hands…"

He continuously gained speed until he was running. He ran as fast as he could. Images flashed through his head; leaving the infirmary, the explosion, people ducking and diving as a human body came hurtling towards them, whispers and rumors flying around about him, and the shattered cup.

"The little boy has blood on his hands," The imaginary voice sang with malicious glee, "The little boy has blood on his hands."

He could barely hear the gasps and whispers of the portraits as he sprinted past them.

He ran so fast that he didn't see another student coming around the corner. Harry ran straight into him, sending them both flying backward. Harry just barely caught himself so that his head wouldn't hit the floor.

The imaginary taunts immediately came to a stop, they were replaced with a ringing in his ears.

"Sorry," Harry groaned as he slowly stood up.

"No, it's fine. You alri-" The kid stopped himself as he looked up. He looked straight into Harry's face, or rather, his lightning-bolt scar.

Her electric blue eyes suddenly were filled with fear. It was pitiful and comical at the same time.

(A/N: I refuse to use the word "orbs" in my fic. They're called eyes, not orbs. I don't care that I'm the only fanfic writer who calls them eyes. "Orbs" is weird).

They stood there without moving for a few moments. The other kid still not bothering to get up, their stuff scattered all over the ground, Harry looking down upon her.

"You good?" Harry asked with concern, what the fuck has gotten into this kid? Was there a large monster standing behind Harry or something?

He glanced backward, over his shoulder. The corridor was empty, or at least it appeared empty. Perhaps Peeves was haunting this poor kid. Whatever was going on, it probably wasn't important, nor worth much more of his time.

He wasn't sure if he was feeling pity or laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," She suddenly scrambled to collect his things and ran off in the opposite direction.

"Well, that was weird," Harry said to himself after the other kid was long gone.

"Not as weird as running from nothing," A random portrait responded.

"Oh, shut up," Harry walked away, determined to only walk.

It dawned on him that there was only one logical solution for why the other kid ran off; Harry Goddamn Potter killed someone less than two weeks ago and still hasn't shown any signs of remorse.

He put his hands in his pockets as he walked to the library.

Great, he thought sarcastically, another goddamn thing to deal with, everybody in this school finding out I killed someone.

xXxXxXx

He heard chatter coming from above. It was weird hearing so many voices that weren't in your head after the break. There was only one thing that could've happened to cause all these people to be above the underground library; everyone was back.

He saw it coming yet didn't prepare himself mentally.

He was excited. His friends (if they would still want to be his friends after what happened in the dungeons) were back.

He was nervous. Zabini Blaise was back and Harry had just killed his best friend. He honestly felt pity for Blaise, but it was overpowered by his hatred for Theodore.

He was angry. Malfoy and his idiotic friends were back.

He had done enough sulking and running away. He put his book back on the shelf and ran out of the library with a smile on his face. He flew up the stairwell skipping every other step.

He finally arrived in the main hall. Everyone had already gone into the great hall. Harry checked his wristwatch, he was supposed to be in the great hall already.

He walked upstairs, he felt if he entered at this point it would look like he wanted attention. Attention was the opposite of what he needed after killing one of his classmates.

He was panting by the time he reached the common room. He answered the riddle and threw himself onto the couch. He decided to enjoy the last of the quiet. He pulled out a novel he borrowed from the library and found the page where he placed a scrap of parchment as a bookmark.

After a while, people started filing into the common room.

Veronica Prewett was the first one to approach him.

"I know you killed him," She leaned over, so their faces were at the same level, "I also know you both used to be close. Do anything to Padma and I'll fuck you up. Got it?"

He was shocked, but he nodded his head.

"Good," She stood up straight, she towered over him. It was reasonable considering he was sitting and she was standing, "Sleep well."

She walked away, her curly flaming red hair trailing behind her.

He leaned back and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He wondered where Padma was, he assumed she was just in the bathroom or he missed the opportunity to talk to her before she went up.

Harry opened his book again and continued reading.

After a few pages, he heard the portrait creek open. He turned his head and saw Padma slip in through the portrait hole. He shut his book.

"Hey," She said in her sweet, honey-like voice.

"Hey," He responded hoarsely.

"Harry," She sat down next to him, "There is a rumor going around, a rumor about you."

He felt his heart drop.

"They've been saying that you are…" She trailed off.

"That I am?" He asked even though he knew what she meant.

"They've been saying that," She took a deep breath, "You're responsible for the death of Theodore Nott."

He heard her voice strain and crack. He didn't look her in the eyes nor did he respond.

"So," She said after a moment of silence, "It's true then, you killed someone."

"Padma…" He looked at her, her eyes were glassy and had red creeping in. She was about to cry, "You don't understand, it was a kill or get killed situation. Anyways, I didn't even know what I was doing, I didn't know it would kill him."

"You're meaning to tell me that, you accidentally killed someone?"

"Look if you just shut up and listen I can explain, but you aren't listening! I'm trying my fucking best!"

"I'm done, nope, I'm not dealing with this," She got up, sounding irritated, "I'm going to bed before you kill me too."

He almost laughed but thought better of it. He could feel his blood boiling. He didn't want to stay here, in the common room.

He grabbed the purple pouch. He extracted the cloak and threw it over himself. Harry grabbed his wand and slipped out of the portrait hole.

The portrait slammed shut louder than he expected but it wasn't like anyone in the dorm was sleeping.

He knew where he wanted to go that night. Harry ran down the stairs with a huge grin on his face. He forgot about Padma by the time he reached the large doors leading outside.

Harry ran over to the broom shed containing all the school-owned brooms. He grabbed an old star chaser and a golden snitch. He walked over to the middle of the pitch.

He threw off his cloak and stuffed it in the purple pouch. He placed the pouch down along with his wand.

The wind blew slightly faster.

He swung his leg over the broom and looked up. The moon was hidden behind the clouds yet still shone its brilliant light upon the pitch.

He kicked off of the ground, still holding the snitch. He threw the little ball and shut his eyes, letting it get away.

"One," He muttered even though nobody was near.

"Two," His eyes were still shut.

"Three," He remembered Padma, did she know about Theodore? Probably.

"Four," He remembered Theodore, still felt no remose.

"Five," He remembered Blaise and pity found it's way into Harry's mind.

"Six," He silently told himself to stop thinking like that.

"Seven," Obviously, it didn't work.

"Eight," He took a deep breath.

"Nine," Another deep breath, this time trying to enjoy the moment and distract himself.

"Ten," He opened his eyes.

He didn't see the snitch anywhere. He supposed that was a good thing, as long as it was still on the pitch. He held on tight to his broom and flew over to the edge of the pitch. It was slightly nerve-wracking riding a broom after so long.

He did loops as he kept his eyes out for the small golden ball. On his third loop, he finally spotted a fleck of gold near the middle of the pitch. Despite being in the middle, it was extremely high, much high than Harry was when he threw it.

He flew upwards, towards the ball. The golden snitch seemed to realize this and immediately started flying away in jagged motions. He had to immediately dive, turning almost 180 degrees. He extended his arm as he chased the snitch.

The snitch made multiple sharp turns, which Harry counteracted by turning his(aka the school's) broom. Eventually, he caught the golden bastard.

After a few more rounds of chasing the little golden ball, Harry decided that he was too tired to continue playing the role of seeker and slowly decended. The bottoms of his soles hit the dirt and he dismounted the broom.

Harry's eyes landed on the velvet purple pouch and his wand. He was just then realizing how dumb it was to leave the two most valuable things he owned in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch, when anyone else could've easily snuck past him and stolen it while he off trying to catch a tiny golden ball with wings. Oh well. He grabbed both his wand and the pouch. He walked over to the broom shed and returned the broom and snitch. He made a promise to himself that he would return the next night.

He would never tell anyone about his secret passion for being a seeker.

Harry put on his cloak whilst still in the shed. He gripped his wand tighter as he ventured back into the large castle, guided by moonlight.

A/N: I'm making a Goetic playlist! To recommend songs, fill out this form: forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdV-zKnd4clnA-iRkjiWtI_q_HfKnxYVMG_iZDrI0V6aMGJhA/viewform?usp=sf_link

I'll link the playlist in chapter 13 or 14, it all depends on when I finish it.