Harry Potter :Diamond Heart

He had a vague, desperate hope that he might somehow forget what she had done so they could return to the happiness of before, but he knew, even as he hoped, that it would never happen. It was a small thing really, a tiny, petty gesture made in alcohol affected anger, but it had been enough. Roger Davies' face hung in his head every time he looked her and he knew he would always doubt her fidelity.

Such a small thing and so much lost.

Harry's heart thawed and he choked on something that was part laugh, part sob, this was not how he had imagined his first relationship ending. It hadn't even really started, but he couldn't forget what she had done to spite him and he couldn't seem to forgive her for it either.

Katie's lip began to tremble once more and she whirled and ran back into Gryffindor Tower before her tears started again. Harry felt hollow, as if someone had drive their hand into his chest and pulled out his heart. He might have believed they had if he could not hear its beating faintly in the back of his head. The sound of its rhythm was the only thing he could really focus on, everything else seemed distant and unimportant. Harry might as well have been back at the World Cup for all the ashes he could taste within his mouth.

It had not been until Katie told him she was going with Roger Davies that he had realised he had been looking forward to going to the Ball with her. Even the opening dance that just featured the champions would have been enjoyable with Katie. Now he would have to find another girl to go with. One of the ones who gawked at his scar, or dreamt of the limelight. A girl who would stand next to Harry to be seen while he felt like a silhouette of himself beside her.

Perhaps I just won't go.

He had been completely right in his assumption that the Yule Ball would cause problems for him, but he had severely underestimated how much they would hurt. It, Roger Davies' spite and Fleur Delacour's temper had cost him Katie, whose friendship had come to mean a great deal to him.

Harry was half-tempted to go and exact revenge on Roger Davies. His jealous, petty retaliation against Harry was what had caused this most of all. There were a thousand ways he could take his vengeance, but in the end he decided just to walk away. It was easier to treat them all as if they were strangers. Eventually they would all become strangers and he would not care. Every time he got involved with Gryffindor Tower this year things seemed to get worse. Ron, Hermione and his first wand, and now Katie. It seemed to be his fate for everything to go wrong within his house, then he remembered what he was and smiled bitterly.

My fate is to die.

The thought was overly melodramatic and he laughed weakly before turning away from the portrait of the fat lady.

Harry would not be coming back here if he could avoid it. The Room of Requirement and the Chamber of Secrets, where he was now headed, were all he needed.

He sat down on the tip of tongue that spanned the pool across to the door to Salazar's study. Slytherin could wait until he had read Sirius' letter. Harry hoped it was good news, or encouragement, or praise, or just anything positive. He wasn't sure he could withstand anything negative at the moment. He'd reached out earnestly and been somebody to someone again for the first time he could remember. The someone, Katie, had betrayed him, left him so inexplicably, and now he was nobody to everyone again.

I hate it, he snarled to himself.

There wasn't much he wouldn't do ensure he did not become this person of nothing again. The feeling of emptiness, purposeless was unbearable. He had been flung into the void, the space between feelings and distractions, where the consuming whispers waited. They gnawed at him, eating away everything he thought was himself and if he could not escape them they would one day devour him completely. Harry would be left a hollow, apathetical shell of a person that the world could never touch. He could imagine no worse fate.

Fortunately, Sirius' letter was about as positive as anything inanimate could be, and harry felt a flood of affection for the man. There was concern for his well being, pride at his achievements, condemnation for his fickle, former friends. Everything and anything Harry could have expected from a parent was untidily scrawled across the cheap parchment in thin ink. Sirius may well have risked a fate worse than death simply to buy the materials with which to send this letter.

It was the last sentence that had brought the affection from Harry. Concern at his entering the tournament was to be expected and not unwelcome. He was glad his godfather cared about him, pride at how well Harry had done and how much better he was becoming, that was pleasing too, but the single line that contained Sirius' advice on the Triwizard Tournament was invaluable to Harry.

Prove them all wrong, it read, in letters that had been etched hard into the parchment's surface. Win the damn thing.

Harry would do exactly as his godfather advised. His former friends thought he was under the influence of a dark wizard, he'd show them he was too strong for that to be true, those who thought turning on him would let them step out of his shadow, would find themselves further within it, and Fleur Delacour, whose affronted pride had been part of the reason he lost Katie, would never forget being beaten by a fourteen year old. There would be a trophy with his name on it. A real, tangible thing that he had done himself and would be know for. That would make him somebody. It had to.

Harry gave the piece of parchment a small smile. For all of his godfather's flaws, and Harry knew there were many, he had earned as much trust as Harry had to give. A cold chill ran down Harry's spine at the idea of telling Sirius everything. It was not that he feared Sirius would abandon him like the others, Harry knew he would not, but how could he explain that he had to die to the only real living family he had. Salazar's portrait had been dead for a thousand years and Harry knew that it would never accept the idea that his heir should sacrifice his life.

So he could not write about horcruxes, or about the pain that Sirius would feel when he learned that his godson had to die. There would be no warning and no preparation for the poor man who had little else left to lose but Harry. It is unfair.

.

.

.

🍀Visit my site at tiendup for more advanced content...🍀

🍀Read the complete novel in PDF, available at my Store!🍀

https://sunflowersfic.tiendup.com/