Invisible

Invisible

I sat at the table with them, but I wasn't really there. Their words echoed past my ears, but I didn't really hear them. I ate the food mechanically, but I tasted nothing. They looked at where I sat, but they didn't see me. They looked right through me, always right through me. They couldn't hear me. They couldn't see me.

I was invisible.

I pushed the food around idly on my plate, not sure I wanted to continue to eat what I could not taste. I was hungry, yes, but the food was nothing but air to me now, and even that - air - I half didn't desire.

They finished eating and stood up from the table, talking between the three of them. They left, their voices echoing until they faded from my hearing, but I didn't care. I listened to the sounds of the house echo around them, and then one of the House Elves appeared and cleared away the plates.

All but mine.

They ignored me, like my family. They ignored me, like my friends.

I was invisible.

I didn't used to be invisible. They all used to see me. My family would see me and use me for target practice, with spells and insults. Then I went to school. The students would see me. The girls fawned over me the moment I walked into the room.

My friends: my friends would see me, smiles spreading over their faces when a familiar spark of mischief lit up in my eyes. And then, the last time they saw me was when I betrayed them, when they all looked at me in hate, with betrayed eyes. Then they all turned away.

Now, everyone looks my way, but they do not see me. They look right through me. I am a window, shiny and clear. I am a trickle of water, unperturbed. I am a mere piece of glass, flawless.

I was invisible.

I made a mistake. I betrayed my friends, my brothers. If only they knew why. If only they had known that it was for the better cause. If only they could understand, I did it to protect them. But they don't know, and they will never know, because I cannot tell them. I could write it all down, but they will not see it. I could scream it as loud as a banshee, but they will not hear it.

I am invisible.

I look down at my plate. Somewhere within my musings, I have eaten the rest of my food. There is nothing left to push around. I stand up and walk away.

No one cleans up my plate.

The house is dark, as always, but now it seems darker than usual. Perhaps it's the depression I have felt slowly settling over me, embracing me with cold, twisted arms. I know it's preparing to strangle me, and I don't really have the strength to care. Maybe things would be better off that way.

It seems empty, but I know it's not. I walk past the portraits, but they don't whisper about me as they used to. Their eyes don't settle on my form in disdain. They do not see me.

I am invisible.

I make my way to my room. No one cleans it anymore. The House Elves no longer know I exist, and my family, even if they could see me, would rather believe that I have died. I push open my door and collapse onto my bed, ignoring the dirty sheets and horrible state of the things around me. I don't care. No one cares.

I look at my mirror, a mirror that used to talk to me when I looked into her depths and tell me how horrible I looked when I just woke up in the mornings, bed-hair still dancing savagely about my scalp. Now, my mirror is silent. She has fallen into blindness, like all the others. She does not see me.

I am invisible.

I stand up and walk over to her, standing before her. I look into the glass, expecting to see nothing, like everyone else does. I expect to see my bed, my walls and the carpet, strewn with dirty clothes worn by the boy that doesn't exist.

Instead, I see a boy staring back at me.

He has shoulder-length hair, as black as coal. It seems frazzled and dirty, sticking up at odd places and giving him a rugged look. His skin is pale, like snow, or the cold touch of Death. His eyes intrigue me. They are blue, but they do not sparkle. They are dull, like the eyes of the sky after a storm, calm but exhausted, all energy used up. They are like a stone that has been used for sharpening knives too long. Dull; dying. And then, I know who the boy is.

I am the boy.

But...no, that can't be me. It can't be. I'm invisible, remember? Everyone looks through me, to something else. They do not see me. They don't know I even exist. I am dead, gone...forgotten.

I am invisible.

But then why do I still see myself standing here? Why do I look into a mirror and not recognize myself? Why do I see what the others cannot?

I see it, in my eyes - pain, hidden back behind the dull, black sky. It tries to sneak out of view, to stay out of reach, so no one knows the way I feel, deep down inside, but I can see it. I see the pain, the regret. I see the horror, and feel it.

I see the betrayal in my own eyes that all others have expressed.

But I also see myself. I see what others have forgotten. I see what they are blind to. I see Sirius Black, a boy who made a mistake and is sorry. I see Sirius Black, a boy who has been betrayed like he betrayed the others. But they do not see me anymore.

They do not see me. They have forgotten me. They are blind to me. They have betrayed me. I have gone now.

I am invisible.