Harry couldn't help but drink and smoke now. It had been three days since he stormed out of the Weasleys without a word. It had been three days since he tried to get out of his trance, out of his hole, out of this terrible life he was living. He went back into the closet that he had been storing his drinks in. The once fully stocked closet was now completely empty with the exception of the empty bottles. All of his packages of cigarettes had been smoked through and it seemed all the food in the house seemed more unappealing in every meal. Yet Kreacher was making it all the same way. It wasn't getting worse; it was getting better. But every time Harry looked at it, his appetite left him. Instead of eating, he would be drinking, instead of breathing, he would be smoking and instead of living, he would be moping. His life couldn't help but burn to the ground.

TAP! TAP! TAP! Harry turned to look out the window. There was a large barn owl on the windowsill, with a note attached to his left leg. It's obviously the Weasleys, they must be wondering what's going on with me.

Harry slowing dragged himself to the owl and detached the rolled up piece of parchment. It wasn't from the Weasleys, it was from someone who was pretty damn close though.


Dear Harry,

I know I'm the last person you want to hear from. I noticed that you were uncomfortable at the Burrow when you visited. And the topic of Gringotts didn't seem to help. If anyone knows you the best, it's me. You may not even open this, but if you do, take these words in. I once knew a clever man who said this to his enemy, "You're the weak one, and you'll never know love or friendship and I feel sorry for you." I think you know who said that. But now that clever man has changed and started making all the wrong choices. And all the love and friendship seems to disappear from his brain. But I know, it didn't disappear from his heart. Why else would he have come or listen to Ginny? I know that the Harry that I grew up with is still in there. I'm almost completely sure that he never left. Maybe he just fell into a ditch and can't get out. We'll make it through this Harry. TOGETHER. You're the closest thing to a brother I have. And I can't just sit around and watch you slowly fall insane. It's truly ridiculous. Please if you can just write back. Maybe we could meet sometime. Like at the Three Broomsticks. It could be just like old times. Just you, me and Ron. I have to include my boyfriend of course. Hopefully you picked up on that. Boyfriend. I don't want to flaunt that in any stretch. I just wanted you to know your not being left in the dark and you're being fully updated while you go through this faze.

Please come back to the one we know,

Hermione Jean Granger


What in the world was she talking about? We can get through this. It's like she was going through it too. Well she obviously didn't understand. There was no "we" in the situation. It was just him. It wasn't a "faze" he was going through. For once the great Hermione got an answer wrong. Harry left the kitchen, now fully sick to his stomach. Hermione did know how to make him feel guilty about himself that's for sure. Harry entered his study and went straight to his desk that was fully cluttered with newspapers, letters, photos, and different fan mail. The fan mail he didn't dare touch. He was still trying to find a way to get rid of it because they weren't even worth his trash can or his fireplace. They weren't even worth floating in the ocean in some forsaken part of the world. He would revisit them later. Harry opened his drawer and took out the parchment he was looking for. It was almost entirely blank except one specific word. Sorry. Hopefully she'd catch up on what that meant. Harry quickly rolled it up and attached it to the large barn owl. He didn't want to play this dumb mind game. The sorry was just a sorry. A sorry that meant two things. Sorry but I'm not going to come and meet you and sorry I stormed out. He sent the bird flying back where it came from.

"Master?" Kreacher asked after trailing behind Harry.

"What do you want, Kreacher?" Harry asked in an annoyed tone. He really didn't want to be disturbed at the moment.

"Kreacher ran out of ingredients to make Master's dinner. Kreacher will need to go to the market and buy some more. Does Master approve?"

"Go right ahead, Kreacher. I don't mind. Take your time; I'm not in any rush." Kreacher bowed his head and apparated out of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry sighed. Kreacher seemed very strange lately. He seemed to care more of what Harry thought. And even more about what Harry wanted to eat. He guessed it was because he didn't really eat anything anymore. Maybe a couple bites here and there, but that was the extent of it. Harry turned around and returned to his study. Harry scanned the room. It seemed a lot cleaner than he remembered it being while he stayed there in fifth year. Actually, with constant nagging about cleaning the entire house probably was what changed it. He shook his head. It seemed every thought of his returned to the Weasleys. Yes, they were the closest thing to a family he had but that didn't mean anything to him anymore. He still cared about them, but he felt as they shouldn't care about him. After all, he was the one who started the Battle of Hogwarts. The very same battle that caused the death of their son. Finally a chest caught Harry's eye. It was dark brown, with a lock on it. It was dark and dusty but it seemed more new than the rest of the furniture that was in the study. He slowly crept toward it. He didn't know what he was doing, but something about it felt right. Harry knelt down on one knee and opened the chest. The lock must have been busted because it was unlocked.

Inside it was different personal items that belonged to someone who, obviously, lived in the house before Harry did. He pushed the junk that was on the top away and dug through the old tattered clothing that was folded in it. Finally, he came to a picture framed, turned upside down with an initial and a message on the back. It read "SB, JP, PP, and RL. Once a marauder, always a marauder." MARAUDER! JP! It must have been something of Sirius's. He quickly flipped the picture and saw four young boys, around the age of fourteen, smiling at the camera. There was some sort of sparks in the background with a red headed girl with an angry expression shown on her face. Must have been a prank they pulled, Harry thought, Wait…That must be Mum! The prank must have been set on her. Harry laughed at the though of his dad pulling a prank on his mum. Harry's eyes returned to a boy with messy black hair and brown eyes. It was his dad, James Potter, looking happy and alive. Another innocent person who died for my sake. Why did everyone do that for him? Why was he so ungrateful that everyone did that for him? No one should have sacrificed themselves for this life he has. It seemed all their effort went to waste. Remus Lupin gave Harry one job after he died and one job only. Take care of his son, Teddy. And Harry isn't even stable enough to go and meet the poor infant. It just showed how much didn't deserve to be alive. How much he deserved to feel the regret that nested itself in his chest.

Another day wasted another chance to get better gone. Another opportunity to see his only friend missed. Why did he keep screwing up? This question had gone unanswered as he laid his head on his pillow and slowly drifted to sleep.