Back at Hogwarts
@pinkfrillyrobes
Harry hung his head as he dragged his feet against the cobblestones. Only the sound of the drip, drip, drip of water from the ceiling to the floor, and the wet, dank smell filled his nostrils, reminding him of his first trek in the Hogwarts’ dungeons toward Snape’s Potions classroom.
He’d been roaming the halls since his last class was dismissed, avoiding ... well ... everyone. He wore a frown and with every footfall, his nearly-empty book bag slapped against his thigh. It was an oddly comfortable sound, the slap, slap, slap of leather against his school robes. At the same time, it angered him, knowing so many of his friends and innocent students died, unable to experience what he so now resented.
He let out a shuddering sob, lifting a hand to swipe at his dry eyes. He’d long run out of tears. He turned on his heel and leaned heavily on the nearest wall, right next to the Deathday Party Hall. Curling his fist, he hit the wall at his hip, over and over again, muttering to himself that he shouldn’t have come back.
The methodic noise masked any set of footsteps approaching him, and as far as Harry knew, he was alone. Always, alone.
