He'd been avoiding Luna. She made him happy, if only slightly, but he didn't know what to do with himself. Dumbledore confronted him about missing the lesson, he raved and ranted about how Harry had better get a hold of himself. Dumbledore even knew of his slipping grades, of course he did. Dumbledore spoke in a level tone, but it felt like an attack to Harry.
"And you'll meet me tomorrow night for our first lesson." Dumbledore demanded, trying to grab Harry's drifting attention. Harry couldn't look the man in the eye.
"Yes, sir." Harry agreed blandly. It's not like Harry was being given a choice. Here he was, sixteen years old, almost grown, and still his own life was out of his hands. From one extreme of nobody giving a damn about his life to another didn't make it better. If you asked him what he wanted out of life, he came up empty. A young him would have said he wanted a family that loved him. He a few years ago would have said to be a hero.
Harry stood up from the chair opposite Dumbledore, sighing as he went. He finally met Dumbledore's eyes and saw his frowning face.
"Stay sharp, boy, Quidditch tryouts are soon." Dumbledore reminded and Harry cursed underneath his breath. He was the captain now; how could he forget? Dumbledore had called him into his office early in the morning, so he still had an hour, but he had to look at least somewhat presentable. Fuck, eyes would be on him. Quidditch used to be a priority. What happened?
Harry walked quickly to his room, only a few were bright eyed and bushy tailed. He found his trunk easy enough. He began to dig through it, searching for his supplies. Something cut his hand and he gasped, retracting the hand and cradling it. Crimson leaked from the wound onto the floor. It was a nasty gash.
He returned his attention to the trunk, looking for the culprit. It was a piece of jagged glass. Harry's heart broke all over again as he held it like it was the most important thing in the world. The piece of mirror Sirius had gifted to him. He looked through it, of course there was only darkness. Sirius was gone now.
Harry didn't bother fixing the wound, he deserved the pain, deserved the anguish. How could he forget? He wrapped it in a silk cloth and held it close for a moment. Oh, what he'd give to see Sirius one more time. What he'd give to just go back for a moment before this shitshow.
That was the past. He pulled the clothed wrapped shard away from his body, staring down at it for a moment. He once again buried it deep within his trunk in the hope that it would be forgotten. It wouldn't be forgotten, it would burn itself deep within his psyche, he'd always think about it during those lonely nights.
He shook his head, trying to focus. Quidditch seemed so childish and stupid now. If he had a say in the matter, he'd just go to bed instead, but he didn't. There were people relying on him once again, despite him not having much to give.
He took a burning hot shower, he hated hot showers, but he felt filthy. It had been a while since he'd probably bathed himself, he'd been surviving off cleaning spells to avoid any disgusted looks.
Harry dressed in his Quidditch robes with Firebolt in his right hand. He stomped out with confidence he didn't feel to the arena. There was a small collection of Gryffindor's waiting to try out. To Harry surprise, or maybe it shouldn't be surprising, Ron was among the few. Ron smiled at him widely, Harry returned it with a small, forced smile.
Fuck, there was even an audience, Luna was there. She was dressed in Gryffindor colors already cheering though nothing had begun. Harry's smile turned genuine; he couldn't help it. She just had this life to her that was contagious, this unique way of being.
"Alright!" Harry boomed accidentally, grimacing as he did so. He hadn't meant for his voice to carry that much. He effortlessly silenced the area and attracted all eyes.
"Let's begin." He announced that and set the crowd into motion. Harry ordered them to line up by their preferred positions. Beaters, Keepers, and Chasers. Each game was set up so that the potential candidate played the role they wanted. Some did terribly and others Harry made note of.
Ron was visibly nervous when it came to his turn, Cormac had done well and so far, and was Harry's choice despite his obnoxious attitude. Ron was Harry's friend, but Harry believed in fairness, and he wanted his team to succeed despite everything.
Ron went out there, took a deep breath, and gave it is all. Harry felt a dim warmth inside at seeing his mate do good, it felt nice. He missed that ability to enjoy simple things, he wondered when he lost it. No, he hadn't lost it, he was being silly and overthinking. Harry was fine. He instinctively smiled a bit wider and played a bit better.
Overall, Ron managed to be just as good as Cormac, but the team agreed that his attitude was preferable and more productive. Katie, Ginny, and a few other kids Harry couldn't remember joined the team as well. As the new team celebrated, Harry just felt relieved that it was over. He'd felt like a fake the entire time, like this stupid Captain badge would best be left to someone else, no matter how many games he'd helped win.
"Harry! We're going to celebrate in the common room!" Ron cheerfully announced, Harry gave him a thumbs-up. Ron looked confused.
"Aren't you comin, mate?" Ron questioned. That's the last thing Harry wanted to do right now. The team was already taking off without Ron and Harry, and their audience was leaving too.
"Yeah, a little later." Harry lied, a little later they'd be so wasted off sneaked booze, they forget about Harry Potter. Ron didn't look happy with that answer, but seeing his new teammates leaving, he shrugged.
"Okay man, I'll be waiting." He said it like he meant it. Harry couldn't help but be angry. It felt like a lie. Once everyone had gone, he sat down on one of the benches at the stadium. He did so heavily, a breath of air escaping him.
He looked down at his hands, nobody ever really looked well and truly at their hands. His were calloused, though not as much as they usually were. Pale skin stretched over bones these hands of his looked frail.
"You have lovely hands." Luna's voice rang out from beside him, Harry jumped in his seat. She'd somehow sneaked up beside him or maybe he was so focused that he hadn't heard her. Luna reached out with her own hands and traced a line near his thumb, it set his nerves on fire.
She had delicate but strong hands, hands that were capable of something evil but something good. He wanted those hands to bless him with something good. He pondered if she was able to save him, if she'd even want to. He felt like a broken man, he was a broken man.
He let her trace the lines of his hands, pretending she was the light he let soak into his darkness. He hoped he was contaminating her, if he was, he didn't know if he could push her away.
This chapter was meant to be a lot darker, but this will be a filler for now till I write the dark part. I see Luna as broken too but she's more fractured while Harry is dissolving. She's whole but just not like typical people, Harry's empty and losing himself.