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Date Posted: 18:12:55 12/05/04 Sun
Author: ×Harry Potter×
Subject: ×the boy who lived×
In reply to:
Castylo 's message, "
Nobody's Listening" on 16:28:08 12/04/04 Sat

×The halls were busy with students making their way to class, there seemed to be two lanes, one lane was going one way and the other the opposite way. It was kind of the laws or rules of the hallway, but one boy was walking against the sea of people. A messy haired boy struggled through the crowd, but it wasn't as hard as you might think because as the green eyed oddity walked by the people cleared. They formed a lane way for this one boy to get through,They stared and whispered to themselves. Harry hated this, he had his shoulders hunched and was trying to make his way though the clearings quickly. He reached up to his forhead and pressed his hair over his scar, it wasn't that interesting...

He watched everyone stare. Why did they stare, he felt angry, what where they looking at? He finally reached the Muggle Studies classroom, only a last quick glance was given behind him to the whispering students before he entered. He didn't want to be there, after all of those years of making fun of Hermione for taking Muggle Studies now he, Harry was taking it as well.

His bright emerald eyes darted around the room, almost no one was there. He hadn't seen Hermione and Ron all day. Which meant that he had to wallow in his own thoughts the whole time, which wasn't always the best thing to do. It usually made him more depressed then before. Harry walked over to a desk at the very back of the classroom and sat down, he sighed and put his head on the table. He felt so drained. His face was facing the window, the day was brilliant and light and Harry would've done anything to go out and fly his broom and play Quidditch. It had been so long since he had played. He couldn't in the fourth year because of the Triwizard Tournament, his mind froze on that for a moment. That was the year where Voldemort returned and made Harry's life a million times harder then it ever was. And that was the year Cedric died. Harry felt his stomach drop, even though he hadn't really known Cedric and had hated him for half the year because he was getting everything Harry wanted, but he watched him die. The thoughts still plauged his memory. He told himself to stop think about it, there was nothing he could have done anyway. But he still blamed himself. He couldn't play Quidditch in the fifth year either because of that evil Umbridge woman banning him.

He was still staring out of the window, his eyes were glazed over and his thoughts were wandering. But then he blinked, his eyes came back into focus and he looked to the front of the room. His eyes narrowed, Malfoy. Wait a minute, Why was Malfoy at Muggle Studies class? It seemed very out of character for him. He glared at him. The stupid git, but he chose to keep his mouth shut, he wouldn't say anything unless provoked.×

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