Chapter Five
The Fat Lady gave out a squeak of protest as Harry pushed her portrait open a little harder than he should have, banging her all the way out into the wall. "Sorry," he called out, but didn't stop to hang around as she swung shut again. He didn't want her to see his face and report him for being out.
Maybe he should have gone and got his invisibility cloak? But as he moved further into the corridor his stiff legs already felt fresher, and he decided to risk it. Partly because he was worried about being caught and forced back inside, and partly because it felt so good to move, Harry started to run. He was so tired and wrought and furious, the sensation of his feet pounding on the stone floor felt good.
If only he'd not been so stupid! he raged internally. It was just a dream, it hadn't even been about Voldemort, he shouldn't have written that note! What if that's what had tipped off the Ministry, what if that's what had lead them right to Sirius?
Or what if Hermione was right, what if the three of them had insisted on Sirius finding a new house each time they wanted to talk? But this one was a good distance from the cave, its owner always out, its dog friendly and unbothered by Padfoot's visits. After so long on the run, Harry had forgiven Sirius' need for a little convenience. Had that been his downfall?
"No!" cried Harry out loud, smacking the wall hard with the flat of his palm, and slowing gradually to a walk. Those things were not the problem, the problem was having a Minister of Magic too concerned with holding onto his fragile popularity ratings rather than fair justice. Harry screwed up his fists into balls, digging his nails into his already stinging palm. His anger was raw like a nerve, fuelled by his inability to help his godfather, to even be allowed to see him. Cornelius Fudge was a coward and an idiot, but it was his word that was final, it would be him that would seal Sirius' fate.
Harry's anger flared again, and he struck out with both hands, slamming against the locked classroom door he happened to be passing. But as he rebounded, Harry stopped, and looked at where he was.
He was back where he'd been this lunch hour, the old History of Magic classroom. He stared, then pulled out his wand and unlocked the door, walking inside before he'd had time to reconsider.
If the room had been dark before it was almost pitch black now. The moon was mostly hidden by the storm clouds blowing around outside, so Harry lit the lamps that probably hadn't been used in years, and let the door clunk shut behind him.
He looked in the direction of the fireplace, hidden in shadow under the stacked up tables and chairs. Harry ground his teeth, and before he knew what he was doing his hands were wrapping around the nearest chair, and he was flinging it with all his might against the opposite wall.
"ARGH!" he bellowed animalistically, breathing deep and fast. Why wouldn't the Ministry just listen? Didn't they care they were going to sentence an innocent man to death? Harry grabbed another pair of chair legs and swung it around, slamming it down and across the floor. He didn't care he was making a racket, let them come and put him in detention, he doubted he could be any less bothered.
"You hear me!" yelled Harry upwards, daring the whole school to come and drag him away. "I don't CARE!"
This room, this room that his feet had taken him too automatically, it was full to the brim with the death of his family. And suddenly he wanted to destroy it. He pulled his wand back out and turned over the bottom-most table to his left, upending the one on top as well as all the chairs. He levitated them all, something guttural escaping from his throat, and flung them left right, up down. For every bit of wood that splintered he thought of never seeing Sirius again, he thought of all the horrible visions he'd had in Remus' lessons here. "Not Harry," he'd heard his mother saying. "Please no, take me, kill me instead-"
The furniture was looking more and more like kindling, and Harry let what was left of if drop with a roar, scattering it across the floor. Barty Crouch had imprisoned Sirius to try and cover up his own son's crimes, and Harry cursed his name as he picked up another chair, crashing into the blackboard.
"YOU'RE ALL LIARS!" he yelled, tears blurring his eyes. And yet they called him a liar, for saying Voldemort had returned, accused him of having a hand in Cedric's death. While people like the Malfoys walked free, pretending they were upstanding, better, just because they were pureblood. It was all lies!
He was sweating and panting but his rage was boiling, fuelling him like gas to a flame. Another table tipped, and the fireplace came closer into view. Sirius had never lied, only when he thought it would save the Potters' lives, only when it had mattered the most...
The room was a swirl of wood shavings and dust from the chalk board, and the ground seemed to be rumbling under Harry's feet. He levitated the last table to cover the mantel as the thunder and lightning from before broke loose again in the sky.
"Wormtail," bellowed Harry, stars dancing in front of his eyes. "All his fault, all his..." He crashed the desk down, knocking the corner off but there was still plenty left to smash. "FAULT!" If he had never betrayed them, if Sirius had stayed their Secret Keeper instead of trusting Pettigrew, Harry would still have his family, all his family.
His father's last words resonated in his ears as the desk crashed down again and again. "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him!"
"Not fair," panted Harry, his arm aching from pounding the desk into smithereens. "Not fair!"
"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything-"
It should have been Wormtail in prison, all these years. It should be his life they were taking away.
Harry felt like the world was spinning. "It's not fair!" he cried again.
"I'll do anything!"
"IT'S NOT FAIR!"
The stained glass window at the end of the classroom shattered, and Harry was knocked clean off his feet. He screamed as glass sprayed the room, and the wind and rain tore inside, sweeping up the debris, whipping it into a frenzied tornado around Harry as he flung up his arms to protect himself. The thunder shook the very foundations of the school, lightning brightening up the night like it was day.
He lost sense of everything, like he was being pulled off the ground, darkness consuming him as the noise became overwhelming.
And then quite suddenly, everything was black.