We Open at the Close (Drarry)

Vengeance is Mine

Mr Lovegood sat up defiantly in his seat and crossed his arms. "What I did is small recompense for what you both really deserve. I've no regrets about what I did, so if you came here for an apology then you're wasting your breath. I'm glad it hurt you both, and I hope it hurt him the most."

Something deep in Harry's heart seemed to fracture at these words. Mr Lovegood was still talking, but all Harry could hear was a loud ringing noise like alarm bells. He had already been struggling to keep the violent roll and surge of emotion in him from spilling over, now it was tumbling and stretching out like tendrils. He clenched his eyes shut and roared. Mr Lovegood screamed and when Harry's eyes opened he saw that the man was no longer sitting on the chair, but was pinned against the wall, spread-eagle and unable to move. The room was shaking violently as furniture and household items flew around the room, plates and chairs smashing off of the walls, shattering and splintering into a thousand pieces.

Harry was suddenly afraid, he hadn't lost control of his magic like this in a very long time. He dug his nails into his scalp and pulled his hair, screaming, feeling as though his magic would tear him apart along with the house. But the moment passed, and he allowed his fear to be overcome by pure rage. He let his hands fall limp by his sides, and he looked up at Mr Lovegood, his pale eyes bulging in terror. He looked so small and pathetic, pinned like a moth on display, and the thought of Mr Lovegood as a frightened, overgrown insect gave Harry a deep, terrifying sense of satisfaction.

Harry took a step closer and snarled, "How would you like it if I made you feel like Draco did? How about I put you on display for all the world to mock, just like this, before I hurt you like you hurt him?"

Mr Lovegood's eyes widened in fear as Harry drew his wand and pointed it directly at the man's face. Draco was going to die and Harry would be all alone again. And it was all Mr Lovegood's fault. No, it was Harry's fault. Everyone else died for the Boy Who Lived, and he hated himself for it. Well, at least this time he could get vengeance for Draco. Harry didn't care what happened to him afterwards, his rage was now all-consuming, and Harry was resolute in his decision.

He raised his wand above his head, ready to strike when a scream from behind him made him pause and turn. Hermione, Ron, Mr Weasley and several Aurors were stumbling into the house. The Aurors had their wands all pointed at Harry, ducking and dodging the maelstrom of furniture still flying around the room.

"Harry, stop!" yelled Hermione. "You got it all wrong!"

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. He sent the pictures to the Prophet. He was the one who hurt Draco. He confessed to me just before you got here. I'm just going to give him what he deserves."

"NO!" screamed Hermione rushing forward, then stumbling back as an airborne table missed her face by mere inches. "Harry, you have to listen to me! Mr Lovegood sent the pictures but he didn't poison Malfoy! You've got the wrong man!"

"YOU'RE LYING!" screamed Harry.

"She's not lying, Harry!" yelled Ron. "Please listen to us, we're telling the truth!"

Harry hesitated. "But...he said..."

"I don't know what he told you, but I swear to you on my life, it wasn't him," Hermione cried. "He's innocent!"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "No...he..."

What did Mr Lovegood actually say? Harry turned to look at the man, who seemed to be trying to communicate something with his eyes. Harry felt his fury wain and was now overwhelmed with confusion. What was going on?

"Harry, please," Hermione pleaded. "Please, let him go. He didn't do this."

Harry stood unmoving and unsure. He looked at everyone in the room and saw fear in their eyes, even Ron and Hermione's. With a realisation that hit him like a bludger, he realised that the most dangerous person in the room was himself. The resolution to cause pain that had consumed him only moments before dissipated and in its place he became overwhelmed with shame. He lowered his wand and let it slip through his fingers. It clattered noisily onto the floor before rolling away. A moment later, everything that was flying around the room crashed to the ground along with Mr Lovegood, who slid down the wall and crumpled onto the floor in a pile, gasping for breath.