"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,'' said Dumbledore's voice. ''On the contrary...the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.''
Harry felt the white-hot anger lick his insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness, filling him with the desire to hurt Dumbledore for his calmness and his empty words.
''My greatest strength, is it?'' said Harry, his voice shaking as he stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. ''You haven't got a clue...You don't know...''
''What don't I know?'' said Dumbledore calmly.
It was too much. Harry turned around, shaking with rage.
''I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?''
''Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human ---''
''THEN I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!'' Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall. Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, ''Really!''
''I DON'T CARE!'' Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. ''I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE ---''
He seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.
''You do care,'' said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. ''You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.''
seafoam*
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