[When: During this]
[Where: #12 Grimmauld Place to start]
Harry Potter was a failure.
There was a reason he had disappeared from the journal network, keeping what he wrote warded private, and that was because he couldn't deal with them. Any of them. He couldn't stand to even read them and how they all thought they were going to die; it was just too heart-breaking. They must have all blamed him, if they were honest about it. Just a little. He blamed him. He could barely deal with his best friends. When the school closed, he went with Ron, and then shortly after to Order Headquarters, to Mr. Black's library to find something. Like the Lumens Eximo and how that had protected everyone at Hogwarts, there could have been something he could use to...
But there was nothing. The books scattered on the floor was evidence of that. There was nothing, the storm was getting worse and they were all going to die. Harry Potter? Big failure. To think that his mum and dad died for this.
Harry's fist slammed against the door of the room, caving in a small section of the wood significantly. He winced and cradled his hand as he came down the stairs, dejected. Voldemort was a bloody blasted coward, hiding in his hole while he smote them from the sky. If only he could find him!
What would he do if he did anyway?
Why did Dumbledore have to die before this?
There had to be something. There had to be something. Perks. She was still here. She had to know something. The others had asked her already, but maybe they weren't thorough enough. She had to know something.
Harry jumped down the rest of the stairs and into the living room. If Perks wasn't here, he'd have to find her himself...