Harry had to pretend. Fake it till you make it, but Harry didn't feel like he was making it anywhere. The weeks dragged on. He played Quidditch, but it wasn't as fun as it used to be. What once was an escape was now a reminder.
He tried to shove down food he wasn't hungry for, tried to wake up at a reasonable time or even sleep at all. He was okay, he was just fine. Harry dreaded his birthday. He used to hate it because of the Dursley's, now it was because Sirius wouldn't be here to celebrate. His sixteenth birthday was marred with the fact his godfather wouldn't be here to see it.
Remus Lupin came, but not for Harry of course. He brought grisly news of dementors with him. Olivander had been yanked off by the horrible creatures. Harry hoped the strange old man wasn't dead, he was tired of losing people in his life. Besides a few gifts, it didn't really feel like a birthday at all. There wasn't that joy anymore, that childish delight had vanished with the passing of time.
With the arrival of the booklists, it was time to go to Diagon Alley. As Mrs. Weasley was preparing to go Ginny approached Harry with a letter in her hand.
"Oh sorry, Harry, I opened your letter thinking it was mine." she said awkwardly, shoving it into his hands. It was already torn open, so he just pulled out the parchment from inside the envelope.
It should've been a pleasant surprise. He was Quidditch Captain, but he felt a pit in his stomach grow. Ron slapped him on the back, startling Harry.
"Oi, good job mate! Quidditch Captain!" Jealously soiled his tone. Harry glanced towards Hermione, she smiled at him warmly.
"You get the same privileges as a prefect!" She cried overjoyed for him. Harry shook his head in amusement.
They were off the Diagon Alley, Harry money having already been given to him. Apparently as Bill stated the public was taking forever to get their money. When they exited, Harry was shocked to see a magical car and a buttload of aurors waiting for them. What was he the fucking president? He sighed; he knew he wasn't going to look forward to this.
"Harry's been given top-grade security status." Mrs. Weasley said in response to a snarky comment Ron made. Within minutes of entering the vehicle, they arrived. Harry shouldn't still be dumbfounded by magic, but he was. Growing up Muggle will do that to a wizard.
The minute he stepped foot onto Diagon Alley, he felt the change in atmosphere. Wizards and witches seemed more hunch, the air seemed gray. The magic felt timid to Harry. Shops were boarded up and closed, mothers and fathers held their children closer. Harry couldn't blame them one bit.
Suddenly he was swept up into a bone crushing hug, Harry recognized Hagrid's scraggly beard and huge frame anywhere.
"Harry!" The half-giant boomed as he preceded to suffocate the boy. Once Harry started to turn purple Hagrid realized it was probably best to let him go. The big man rambled on about Buckbeak and how happy he's been. Harry genuinely smiled at that, at least something connected to Sirius lived on.
Molly Weasley entrusted Harry, Ron, and Hermione to Hagrid while she and her husband wandered off with Ginny. They set off for Madam Malkin's. Everyone who passed them had this haggard, terrified look on their faces. It was like being in a horror film, this creepy aura just following behind them and stretching out before them.
"I'll stand and guard outside, alright?" Hagrid locked eyes with all three of them. Hermione, Ron, and Harry nodded in unison. A little bell tinkled sweetly as they pushed the door open. There was the soft smell of lavender that lurked in the air.
"Watch where you're sticking that pin!" A haughty voice said. It belonged to Malfoy. His nose stuck up straight, his hair was styled perfectly. His gray eyes locked onto Harry's green ones immediately. He smirked viciously, eyes narrowing.
"You look like shit, Potter." Called Malfoy tauntingly. His mother glared at him, he glanced at her for a second nervously before regaining his composure.
"No need for language like that!" Madam Malkin squealed, purposefully poking the pure blood. Harry scoffed, finding amusement in Malfoy's desperation. Malfoy was pouting, but his mother leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Harry wouldn't say he had excellent hearing, but with them being the only other customers he heard her loud and clear.
"Don't worry, I have a feeling Harry Potter will be joining Sirius soon, son." Harry saw red, before he knew what was happening his wand was drawn. How dare she utter his name on her snake lips. How dare she even think of him when Bellatrix's blood ran through her veins. The very curse that ended his godfather was on his lips, he felt the hatred blinding him.
Draco Malfoy looked into Harry's eyes and Harry knew Malfoy saw the rage. Harry saw the fear. Hermione cried out, but Harry couldn't hear her over the pounding in his skull. Why shouldn't he? An eye for an eye.
"I don't think I want these robes anymore, mother." Malfoy said shakily, though he tried to keep his tone even. Mrs. Malfoy clearly didn't see what Draco saw, so she pursed her lips and nodded.
"Yes, I think we'll take our business elsewhere after seeing what scum is served here." The family sauntered out, Malfoy moving a little more quickly than he usually does. He shot Harry one last deadly glare before the door slammed shut after them. Harry still had his wand trained on them; his arm almost felt stuck in place. He gripped it so tightly he thought the wood might splinter in his grasp. Hermione put a delicate hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.
"It's okay, Harry." Hermione tried to comfort, but her words fell on deaf ears. It didn't seem okay to Harry; no, it wasn't even a little bad. It was awful. Harry finally pocketed the wand, running a hand through his hair instinctively. These feelings were getting fucking old. This uncontrollable rage, this never-ending sadness. Fuck this shit, and fuck Sirius for leaving him to deal with this mess. Harry needed his godfather, and he wasn't there.
Harry left the store silently; he needed some damn air before he exploded into a million pieces. Ron and Hermione trailed behind him, but he ignored them. He stared up at the glum sky, it was a cloudy day. It felt like the right weather.
"Harry, we'll be inside, okay?" Hermione sounded muffled to him, like she was underwater. Harry just nodded absently, eyes not leaving the sky. Ron needed new robes; Hermione clearly didn't want to be around him right now.
"Do you see and Wrackspurts up there, Harry?" an airy feminine voice asked. Harry blinked away his alarm and looked to his right. A girl with very long wavy dirty blonde hair. He knew her by her eyes, like two moons a pale silver. Luna Lovegood. She looked up at the sky like she saw the most marvelous things.
"No, no Wrackspurts." He entertained her strange fantasy. She'd grown some since he last saw her, not in height, but she'd filled out more. He felt strange looking at her like that, but she really was a unique sort of beauty. Nobody bothered to look at Luna like that, but for a moment he did. A soft diamond face with glass skin. A little upturned nose and bow shaped lips. She reminded him of a fairy born of silver and stardust.
"Mmm, you're right. There's only Tristi here." She said sadly, her eyes darting over to meet his. She had this way of looking at people, like she saw right through them into their soul. Harry used to dislike it, but maybe he wanted to be seen now.
"Tristi?" He questioned with a small smile.
"Miserable little things." she explained while shaking her head somberly. She looked at him from head to toe, her eyes were unfocused.
"You're covered in them." She stated matter-of-factly. He frowned at her, but she didn't avert her gaze.
"I have to be going." She announced suddenly, she waved him goodbye. He watched the strange little sprite go, feeling something as he studied her. He'd always put such distance between her and him, but she really was a sweet girl. She wasn't crazy, no, if anything Harry was fucking crazy. He hoped he'd see her again soon; she made him feel just a little bit lighter. A little less like the entire world was sitting on his shoulders and more like a cloud that floated along the gloomy sky.