"How does the Half-Blood Prince fare, then?"
The words shot through the air, laden with hatred and anger and taunting. They weren't really said, though. They seemed to hang there, as if they had always been there, and they darkened the air of the cemetery. The already gloomy enough atmosphere took on a bluish tinge and a figure dressed in black slipped between the gravestones. It had a bouquet of lilies in its pale hand.
It stopped in front of a white tombstone that was overridden by ivy and grass, which it now cut away with a few whispered words. Words were revealed on the stone: 'Lily Potter (1960 - 1980) Loving mother, adoring wife, she sacrificed everything to give her son life and love.' In the darkness, the figure snorted and lowered the lilies onto the ground in front of the stone.
"I'm sorry," the figure whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything else." The voice was distinctly male.
He lowered himself to the ground, knees digging into the dirt, and planted a tired hand on the ground, staring at the tombstone through saddened eyes with a slight tilt of his head. His hood fell back, revealing sallow skin, an overlarge and crooked nose, dark and emotionless eyes, thin lips, and a haggard appearance. He looked drained.
He cast one glance at the tomb next to her, reading only the name: James Potter. He looked away from the epitaph, a brief flare of the old hatred arriving in his eyes before they went back to their void-like state.
So, how does the Half-Blood Prince fare, then?
The mocking wouldn't stop. The man tried not to think of the days that James Potter and his band mocked him, taunted him, and used his own spells against him. He wasn't here for that. He turned back to Lily Potter's grave.
"He's still alive," the man said. "I'll do my best."
Then, he stood up, pulled the hood over his head, and walked back out the way he came, the full moon illuminating the graveyard of Godric's Hollow with something like despair.
I seem to be having a blast with HBP... Here's the hopeful story that he is everything that we want. *hugs 100% good Severus*
Edit: Ah. I seem to have written 1946 on the tombstone. Ahehe. Sorry about that.