Severitus Oneshots

The green of despair, the black of love

Summary:
Moody demonstrates the Unforgivables in the Defense class. Harry witnesses the killing curse, encountering the infamous green light for the first time, transforming it from a distant memory into a vivid experience. Overwhelmed by the ordeal, he hastily leaves the classroom in search of the only person he trusts wholeheartedly.

Quote from the story:
Harry's brain rebooted, and he finally took complete control of his actions. In that instance, he also realized he had just invaded Snape's classroom in the middle of a lesson. His laboured gasps echoed loudly in the tense silence.

________

"Avada Kedavra!" Moody's voice boomed through the classroom as the spell hit the enlarged spider. The air stiffened. It was as if some invisible force wave brushed over the horrified students. It was so quick that if one had blinked, they would've easily missed it. Somebody screamed in the background; others gasped.

Harry just watched.

His eyes were glued to Moody's wand tip. He saw the exact moment the spell, the green ray of light, shot out of it, mercilessly hitting the spider. There was a distinct hissing sound, not dissimilar to the sound of frying bacon Harry had cooked countless times for his relatives' breakfasts. But this time, he wasn't in a familiar kitchen with an open pack of cured meat in his hand and a pan with hot oil sizzling on the stove; no. This time, the hissing sound had a much more sinister undertone, an accompanying melody to the immediate death that the animal experienced.

And the green.

So much green, bright, vivid, dizzying. Harry could not look away. He was frozen, petrified in his chair, eyes unmoving, eyelids unblinking. His breathing muscles refused all cooperation, and his lungs were quickly running out of oxygen.

He barely registered when Moody made a remark about Harry surviving the deadly unforgivable curse. The hair on his arms stood up when somebody muttered the "Boy Who Lived" comment. Nausea rose within his throat, previously consumed food threatening to make a reappearance.

The Boy Who Lived.

It always seemed like an unfinished statement to Harry. He was forever branded with it, but nobody spoke about the second and more important part of that nickname. He was the "boy who lived" Because His Parents Died. They died, and in their final moments, all they saw was that green.

Green. Green. Green.

Harry's vision became swallowed by it. His parents died in the same abrupt manner the spider did. There were no injuries, no scratches, and (Harry idled himself) no pain. Just that green light and that bone-chilling hiss as each and every cell of their bodies was fried. Fried like the bacon Harry cooked for his relatives when he was little. For his aunt and uncle, whom he used to live with because his parents were dead. Dead like the spider that Moody swiftly swept off the table in the next instance. Dead because of the green.

Harry's mind short-circuited, and he started to swim in endless cycles.

Spider. His parents. Green. Death. Death.

It was worse than the encounter with the Dementor he experienced last year. No amount of chocolate could weather the storm raging in Harry's thoughts. His insides turned into mush, limbs a trembling consistency. His mother's voice was ringing in his ears, tuning out anything else. Moody and the DADA classroom were just a distant memory.

He needed out. Now.

Harry's body reacted faster than his numb brain could. Somehow, his legs supported his weight and he felt himself standing up. Then he broke into a frantic run, slamming the door behind him. He left everything behind, not caring how pathetic or desperate he must have looked. Moody yelled something after him, but his words were an incoherent buzz.