Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

The first half of this (Up to the line break) was written by Ella (Slytherin Is My Family)

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Triwizard Tournament (Task 7)

Word Count (Ella): 415

Word Count (Livia): 790 (ish)

The rain fell fast and furious like the sky was sad and angry at the same time, maybe it was. He wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come he was so torn up inside that he couldn't cry about it.

Colin was his big brother, his best friend and now he was dead. It wasn't fair or right, what had his brother ever done that was so bad the universe wanted him dead?.

Nothing, he had done nothing that what made everything so unbearable about death. Colin had never been selfish, he had always been a good big brother and friend.

At first he blamed Harry for it because it was Colin's faith in him that led him to fight, but then he realised Harry never wanted a war, never wanted people to lay down there lives.

No, Harry was just another poor soul dealt with a real bad hand in life and had no choice but to fight to save others like his brother did.

Once he could no longer blame Harry Potter he needed a new source to blame and the obvious one was Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

And he did blame them and he hated them with something that was pure darkness that he had never known before, but the person he blamed more than anyone was Albus Dumbledore.

Why hadn't he stopped Voldemort while Voldemort was at school?, he supposedly knew everything about everyone or at least thats what people always said so the questions remains why hadn't he stopped him?.

Was one life taken to save so many innocent people a bad thing?.

Good people who just wanted to live without the fear of being killed by mad men and wanted to take of their families.

If Dennis could go back to when Voldemort was still a teenager before he'd started creating Horcruxs then he'd kill him without any hesitation.

He'd never thought he was cable of wanting to kill someone until Colin died then it was like all there was rage and sadness.

He didn't know if those feelings would ever go away and wasn't exactly sure if he wanted those feelings to go away.

If they went away what would be left?

Just an empty shell scrambling to get through the days like so many other grieving families and friends who'd lost people in the war.

Only recently he'd seen George Weasley and shocked him how little of the person he'd seen at Hogwarts was left.

George was like him, alone, left behind. They were both shattered souls, remnants of a war that had been won but had left them both with such high personal losses. They were the same, but not the same. George might have lost tthe person he was closest to but he still had a family around him to support him. What did he have? A milkman for a father and a mother who loved him but was in complete denial about the magical world.

While George's family seemed stronger, bonded together by their losses, his family had fractured. He knew that the Weasley's never left George alone, that they comforted him in his grieving and held him close to them. His family was in pieces. Voldemort hadn't only taken his brother, it had taken his parents as well. They were broken, their minds ruined by the loss of their son. Without even knowing who they were Voldemort had taken their most precious thing from them and as a result they were lost.

The last time he had seen his parents they had refused to admit Colin was dead. They had lied to him, pretended like children that he was fine, that he was away at boarding school and too busy to come home. They could hardly bear to see him, a reminder that Colin should be home and so he had left, abandoning the home that was filled with memories of Colin.

After visiting his parents he didn't go back to school immediately. After all, what good had school done for Colin? In the end, everything he had learned hadn't saved his life. Instead, he wanted to help. Perhaps if Colin had let him help he could have saved him. He could have jumped in front of the wand that killed Colin.

No, he didn't go back to school. He went off by himself, intent on destroying every last Death Eater. Of course, it didn't take long for him to be found and sent back to school and he hated them all the more, the school that refused to let him avenge his brother's death.

He figured they couldn't keep him at Hogwarts if he didn't want it so he ran away. Again and again he left the school and again and again he was hauled back by some good for nothing prefect and sat down in front of Professor McGonagall and forced to explain himself when all he wanted to do was scream and cry.

That was where he was going now. Yet another meeting with the new headmistress of Hogwarts. He didn't understand why she wouldn't just give up like everyone else, why she insisted on drawing out the painful torture of the long meetings. Inevitably he always scuffled off afterwards, just as desperate to get away as before.

"Dennis." She motioned for him to sit down and he went along with it... for now.

"Do you know, I taught Colin Creevey for five years, and in all that time he missed my class once. He was sufferingthe nasty effects of a blister bubble spillage and was confined to the hospital wing.

He tapped his foot impatiently wondering where she was going with this. Normally she just gave him a lecture and booted him out.

"Do you think he would be happy with what you're doing? If I'm honest, I think he'd be just a little bit disappointed."

How dare she? She didn't know anything, she had no right to say something like that. Colin would be proud of him,proud of him for trying to help and if Colin wasn't, well that was just because Colin always tried unnecessarily hard to protect him.

"My brother was a fighter and he'd be proud that I'm like him." He stuck his chin out defiantly.

She looked at him with pity and he lashed out at her. He swept an arm across her desk, sending papers scattering through the air. Fragile ornaments tumbled to the ground and shattered. It wwasn't enough. He needed to show herhis pain, needed uher to know how he felt. He knocked over his chair and sent it crashing into a cupboard. He couldn't make it hurt enough. Colin was more precious than anything she had.

He felt her reach out for him, felt her old hand firmly grip his shoulder and it was as if all the energy had drained out of him. He sunk to the floor, sobbing into the soft fabric of her robes while her arms held him tightly.