Disdain
It had been three weeks since Draco Malfoy had been confirmed dead.
An elderly pair of women running the herb shop north of Hogsmeade had encountered a singular pool of clumped decompose and bones a few miles away, flies buzzing loudly as they fed on the remaining flesh underneath the thinning clothing.
The body was missing its lower half entirely, puncture marks engraved in the skull and the right arm located a few meters away from the body.
Some said it looked like a dragon attack, with clawed footprints spotted across the perimeter.
The Wizarding world was shocked by this sudden loss and a huge case opened up to investigate, but there were no leads or any logical explanation as to what happened.
Draco Malfoy's funeral was held at the manor, and the minister himself had shown up to speak for the two grieving parents.
Harry hadn't been there, but it was surely the most pure and beautiful funeral a beast like Malfoy could have.
Still, he felt bad. He wondered what had happened and continuously tried to poke and prod his way into the investigation for more information.
The body hadn't been properly examined, and there was a small going of hope in Harry's heart when he learnt that.
The body could have been someone else.
The great hall was buzzing with conversations, the sounds of laughter and chatter drowned in Ron's ears as he gently poked at his untouched French toast.
His shoulders were drawn up to his ears and his brows furrowed into a crease, lips tugged down into a frown.
Hermione was yapping about something to do with Harry's slipping grades- Ron thought she looked like a bull as she huffed out reasons why he should be studying to become an auror, but Harry cringed at the idea.
He didn't fancy wanting to look for the missing half of Draco Malfoy's body somewhere in the forbidden forest.
Ron couldn't really blame him.
He might have hated that blonde git but still his heart ached for the young boy, to find out what he did and then find out he had died immediately after he tried to help, it certainly didn't help him sleep at night.
The seasons were getting colder, the leaves falling dead from branches, leaving them bare and haunting, staring him down with their screaming elongated faces engraved in wood and bark.
It has been 3 months now, since he last saw Draco Malfoy, save from the moving pictures of the boy in the Frontpage of the newspaper.
His face haunted him for months whenever he picked up the gray material and saw him on the very first page.
Ron could not imagine what his mother was going through, losing her only son like that- Merlin knows his mother Molly would be ruined if one of her kids died.
I should have been watching over him. It was stupid to leave him all alone.
Harry says he's still alive, that he's hiding somewhere deep within the forest, or maybe the mountains.
I don’t think he's anywhere near the sky, more like soaked into the soil of the forest floor, ready to fossilize for centuries, until one day they would find the rest of him-
“Ron!” A rough whisper interrupted his running thoughts and he looked over to stare at Hermione, who had a troubled expression on her face.
“Are you okay?” She mumbled and leaned closer over the table, her eyes glinted with worry.
Ron gave a curt nod and abruptly stabbed into the now cold mess of a fried egg he had been absent-mindedly tearing apart with his fork. He shoved a piece into his mouth, shivered at the texture as the yellow yolk melted on his tongue.
Harry stared at him suspiciously but opted to remain quiet.
Infact, the tanned boy had not shared a single sound since yesterday night.
Ron let his eyes wander over to the slytherin table. Many students from that table were absent, and those who were there were hunched over and looking glumm.
At the very edge he spotted the pale girl who always hung around Malfoy, her short hair styled carefully and blues highlights in her black hair. Pansinson, or something like that. Parksy? Parkinson.
She sat next to a tall, dark man that Ron could recognize from anywhere.
Blaise Zabini.
The pair sat in silence, eyes on their plates.
Ron hummed silently, squinting as if he could zoom in and see what words Zabini was mouthing across the hall, the words that caused Parkinson to tense and grit her teeth before leaving.
A shrill cry came from above their heads, and a herd of owls came rushing in, packages and letters pinched between their talons.
Ron looked down at the table, forcing the last few pieces of egg down his throat when the wretched owl they owned stumbled into a pile of chicken legs, squawking in surprise and then immediately going to nibble at the chicken.
Ron gruffed and yanked the owl away from the pile of its dead relatives.
Fucking cannibal owl.
That's when Hermione reached forward to dig out a white envelope from the scattered mess, and she leaned in before reading what it said and handing it to Ron.
“It's from your brother, Charlie.”
Ron shooed the scrawny owl away and reached to grab the envelope.
He tore the letter open and unfolded the parchment.
My dear little brother,
How have you been? I've been well myself. I'm still stuck here in Sweden, just as I was to leave they called me back in on account of witness reports of a peculiar dragon, apparently nothing like anyone have seen before- people say it could be a new species!
I know I promised to take you traveling to the Dragon resort back in Scotland when I came back but I'm afraid I won't make it back home until a few months.
If you would like to come over under the winter holiday and spend Christmas with me here in Sweden I would be happy to take you, they do have a lot more snow up here than back home.
Maybe it would help you feel better? Take your friends with you if you'd like, the more the merrier.
Your older brother, Charlie Weasley.
Ron sighed out loud, passing the letter to Harry who was looking at it like a hungry vulture staring at a bone.
A moment of silence and then Harry spoke up. “That sounds good, doesn't it? Christmas up in Sweden.”
Ron shrugged and pushed the plate away from him.
“I guess.”
Then Harry grinned suddenly and looked at Hermione. “So, what do you say?” He cooed as he passed the note to her.
“No- no,” she laughed dryly, “I have to study. I do know that it's really beautiful up in the nordics around winter, more so summer, and I wish I could've come along, but really I need to study for the exams-”
Harry rolled his eyes and waved a hand at her. “Try relaxing for once. You can study up there. Besides, maybe you'll be one of the first people to study this new dragon species they've been seeing.”
“I doubt it.”
“Oh god no- no please-”
He wept, yet no tears came from his eyes.
He watched as sharp claws ripped apart their body, intestines spilling and flesh stretching like thin yarn holding everything together.
“Please- no..!” The whimpers were weak, voice rough and silent as he tore up their vocal chords with violent rashes.
He felt trapped, like he was watching this happen from behind a glass screen, mutely trying to restrain his body from tearing at the flesh until it separated with a slick squelch.
In the back of his mind he knew, this was not truly his body, for he was trapped fighting for consciousness.