|
The World Turned Right Side Up | ||||||
|
Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, General, Romance, Tragedy Warnings: Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 259 Summary: With Voldemort gone and a world no longer in fear Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione begin to move on with their lives, only to find that happily ever after is just beyond the horizon. Hitcount: Story Total: 165487; Chapter Total: 11270 Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at fan fiction in general. Aside from a few required writings in college, this is actually my first attempt at writing non-scientific papers since I was a wee lad of 10 or so. I welcome all criticism, as it's the only way I can hope to get better. |
Next |
|
||||
|
Harry remained silent as Ron, Hermione and he left Dumbledore’s office. Harry walked slowly in the lead, with Hermione and Ron hand in hand a few steps behind him. No one spoke a word. All that could be heard was the group’s footsteps echoing down the hallways. As they made their way through Hogwarts, sometimes Harry would stop, seeing and taking in just how much destruction the school had suffered that night. Ron and Hermione would stop with him, staying a few paces behind. Occasionally Ron would look to Hermione, his eyes asking her what Harry was doing. For once, Hermione did not have an answer. She was exhausted. Her mind had not been thinking about what Harry was doing. She had been lost in her own thoughts, just staring at the utter destruction around her. She looked up to see Ron still looking at her inquisitively. She then looked at Harry. Thoughtfully she watched him before she spoke. “He’s letting it all sink in,” she finally said to Ron. Hearing her whispers, Harry turned. He looked at his two closest friends, they were still hand in hand. He smiled softly as they realized his eyes were fixed on their hands. He looked back to their faces, both of which were worn and tired from the battle. He again smiled softly, nodding to them. “About damn time…” Harry muttered just loudly enough for his two friends to hear, causing them to blush slightly as he turned and continued to walk on. With each step that he took, Harry felt the burden of the past few hours become heavier and weigh more greatly upon his soul. He was fast approaching the portrait, thinking only of the bed that awaited him atop the Gryffindor Tower. Harry stood before the Fat Lady in the portrait, saying nothing. He did not know the password. “I’m tired” he said, starting straight into her eyes. He could tell she had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and she looked as though she were tired herself. She paused for a moment to wipe her tears with a handkerchief, then she smiled softly at him, nodded, and then the portrait swung open. As Harry stepped into the common room, exhaustion and agony were all around him. Cots had been setup throughout, and many students were laying fast asleep, their dirty clothes still on, having not even taken the time to change before they collapsed. The common room itself was not in much better condition. Many of the windows had been shattered and a large crack ran up the distant wall. In the back of Harry’s mind he pictured the tower leaning precariously, ready to fall if so much as an owl landed on a windowsill. Through the crack Harry stared outside, seeing the blinding rays of sunlight peaking through. For a moment, Harry’s mind was blank, his heart numb. He just stood and stared through the crack, but finally he turned his attention back to those inside the common room. Harry glanced quickly about the room, until his eyes became fixed on the group he had been looking for. He saw the Weasleys — Bill, Fleur, George, Percy, Molly, Arthur and Ginny huddled near the fireplace. All of them appeared exhausted as they stared into the empty fireplace, looking lost, as though part of them was missing. Harry stepped quietly into the room. He did not want to disturb anyone. He had already done what he could in comforting the mourners and the wounded from the battle earlier, all except for the Weasleys. It wasn’t because Harry didn’t want to or didn’t feel that he needed to, but instead it was in part because he felt as though he was the sole reason for the their pain. Ginny caught Harry’s eye for a brief moment. He could see the pain in her eyes, he pursed his lips as though to say something to her. He wanted desperately to say something, to let her know how sorry he was, how much he cared, but words escaped him. He tried to relay to her through his eyes how he felt for her, her family, their grief. For an instant he though he saw an understanding in her eyes as she nodded ever so slightly at him. He looked to the stairway longingly and then back to her. Many times earlier in the night, he had been forced to ignore her, to put her aside in his heart and do whatever it took to keep her safe and ensure Voldemort died, even if it meant dying himself and now his body was pushing him to do it yet again. Ron and Hermione had made their way to the rest of the Weasley clan. Ron placed his hand on George’s shoulder. George didn’t look up, but instead just put his hand over his brother’s., squeezing it gently. For a moment Harry saw the tears running down Ron’s face. Hermione had her face buried in Ron’s shoulder and Ron was caressing the back of her head with his other hand. Harry did not see the tears, but could here her sobs. Harry stood there, in a room full of the only remaining people that Harry could have ever counted as his friends, and he saw nothing but pain — pain that he had caused. Harry looked about the room, at a time when the rest of the wizarding world would be erupting into joyous celebration, those who should celebrate most, those who had be hurt the most, weren’t allowed to celebrate. Even in death, Voldemort had helped ensure that the pain and suffering he offered the world, were gifts that would not easily be forgotten. As he looked at a haggard and tired Arthur Weasley, Harry thought back to the times in the Burrow when Mrs. Weasley and Arthur had tried to learn what Ron, Hermione and he were planning. He thought of all the times when he had told Bill and Fleur that they couldn’t know what he was planning. Harry felt sick for not telling them the truth, sick for not telling them that he was about to take their son on a journey to destroy parts of Voldemort’s soul and bring the full wrath of the Death Eaters and Voldemort’s Army upon them and anyone they were associated with. He sighed a deep breath. He could feel the sorrow about to overtake him. The room felt dark and cold, as though a Death Eater was amongst them but Harry knew that the only cause of sorrow in the room was him. Harry stood, silent and motionless, unable to approach the Weasley’s, near losing all control, wanting to fall to his knees and beg their forgiveness. He steadied himself with what little remaining courage and strength he had. “I..I-I…. I… ummm… I’m…. I…” Harry had meant to say “I’m sorry,” but the words would not come. He felt them catch in his throat and tried to force them out, but instead all he could do was mutter. He swallowed deep and looked straight at Ginny. Unable to speak, he simply mouthed the words “I’m sorry,” to her. Ron, Arthur and Mrs. Weasley looked up. All strength that Harry had remaining left him when his eyes met Mrs. Weasley’s. They were bloodshot, swollen and still full of tears. He saw pain in them, but instead of the anger, and rage toward him that he also expected to see, he saw concern. Harry could fight the tears no more. He began to cry — tears were falling down his cheeks. He quickly pulled his glasses off, wiped his eyes with his robes as he began to run toward the stairwell. “Harry!... Harry wait!” Ginny called out as he was running up the stairs, now sobbing. He heard her footsteps behind him, closing quickly, but after Harry reached the door to the dormitory, he slammed it shut behind him. For a moment, he thought he heard Ginny place her hand against the big wooden door, but she did not say a word. Harry’s sobs filled the room as he glanced wildly about. Looking from bed to bed around there room, Harry saw that no one was there, all of the beds were empty. For the first time in a while, Harry felt grateful. Harry did not remember getting into the bed, or how long he cried before falling asleep. The bright rays of warm sunlight that seemed to be the world’s way of celebrating the end of Voldemort moved slowly across the room as day progressed to evening and finally toward nightfall. Harry had hoped that sleep would bring him comfort as he had walked to the common room from Dumbledore’s office, but he was wrong. He had hoped that with Voldemort gone, and the weight of the entire world no longer squarely upon his shoulders, that he might finally rest, but for Harry his concern for others, for those who had died or nearly died, his dreams gave him a whole new set of worries. Only pure exhaustion kept him asleep, because what Harry has so passionately hoped would be dreams were instead nightmares. What he had hoped might be remembrances of happier days, especially those with Ginny just weren’t there. Gone were the visions from behind Voldemort’s eyes, watching, feeling him murder and they were instead replaced by visions from his own eyes. Unfortunately for Harry, Voldemort was no longer the master of Harry’s nightmares, but instead it was now Harry. For Harry, no matter how powerful Voldemort may have been and how real he could make Harry’s nightmares seem, his mind and his heart were able to terrify him all the more. Instead of spurring him to action, as Voldemort’s nightmares had done, Harry’s own creations left him frozen, broken and almost hopeless. Reliving every moment from the past night, Harry saw himself standing before Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest, seeing his parents and the rest disappear, just before Voldemort spoke those horrible words and sent the green flash of light screaming toward him. His dreams gradually progressed toward the climax of the final battle, but he never reached his last battle with Voldemort. Instead, his nightmares became fixated on Ginny, Hermione and Luna battling Bellatrix as he stayed hidden underneath his cloak. The fear was more real in the dream for Harry than when it had first happened. In Harry’s mind he knew the outcome, he knew who lived and who died, but in his nightmares he was able to reflect on just how close those he cared for came to dying. Harry saw the flash of green energy fly from Bellatrix’s wand and so narrowly miss her, “GINNY!...” Harry found himself screaming out with all of his might from under his cloak, frozen in time, unable to move. His heart was racing, breathing quickly and he felt a cold sweat break out across all of his body. Harry felt nausea slowly build in his stomach as that flash of light came so perilously close to Ginny. From everything that happened that night before, Harry’s mind kept bringing him back to that moment, seeing Ginny so nearly die. Over and over again, he saw the green light speed past her. Harry could not get beyond thinking what would have happened had the curse hit even just one hair on her head? What kind of rage would have came out of him at that moment? Harry’s dreams continued again and again, each with Harry crying out for Ginny and watching her so nearly die. “G-G-Ginny!... watch out…. G-Ginny!... GINNY!…” Harry kept groaning over and over in his sleep. Ron finally awoke after a particularly loud moment when Harry had cried out her name so forcefully that Ron jumped out of bed, expecting to see his sister in the room, being tortured or worse. He looked around the room and realized there was no one there. He stared at Harry for a moment, turning his head slightly. Harry was dreaming again and Ron knew it all too well. Countless times in the past he had been awoken by Harry’s nightmares, with Harry screaming out warnings or agonies for those he saw suffering. “Could it be that Voldemort’s not dead?” Ron thought. He had seen the spell, he had seen it hit Voldemort and his body fall lifeless to the ground. Deep in the back of Ron’s mind though, a though crept in. Voldemort had fallen once before with a spell meant for Harry. “Why should it be any different now? Could Harry be seeing his sister suffer the wrath of a once more weakened Voldemort who would not hide for a decade before he attempted to rise to power again?” Ron thought quickly, he remembered that just hours before the whole family had been in the common room grieving. Ginny was there, her head on Bill’s arm, weeping for the loss of Fred. Then the whole family had decided to at least lie down. None of them expected to get any sleep, but at least each may be able to grieve in his or her own way. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Fleur had followed Hermione to the girls’ dormitory. Ron knew that if anything was happening to Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Hermione was also in danger. Ron grabbed Harry by the arms. His cries were now so loud that Ron was sure others would have heard him. He shook Harry until Harry finally stopped screaming and opened his eyes. Just as Harry looked up at him, Arthur, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Hermione came bursting into the room. Harry and Ron looked around to see everyone that had just came roaring through the door into the room. Everyone was looking at Harry, who had a bewildered look in his eyes. His eyes were glazed, his mind trying to hold on dearly to the nightmares and reasons he was crying out as he realized where he was and that he was no longer in that terrible moment. “Ginny...” Harry spoke softly looking at her. She was the only person in the room that he cared to look at. Even though she looked terrified, her eyes still red and swollen from crying , he found himself growing a little calmer looking into her eyes. He felt all the muscles of his body relax a bit at he saw her standing in front of him, breathing, crying, alive. “Harry!” shouted Hermione, snapping him back to reality. “Harry! What’s wrong? What have you been seeing?” The look in her eyes echoing what had raced through Ron’s mind just a few moments before. “Ginny’s here,” she whispered softly. “…she’s safe,” Hermione added looking toward Ron, seeing the fear in his eyes abate. “I.. I.. I was dreaming,” Harry stammered to get out. “I…” but his voice broke off. How could he tell them of his fear? How could he tell them why he had been screaming? Even he didn’t fully understand it, and he knew they would understand it even less. How could Ginny ever understand any of how Harry had treated her, leaving her alone over the past year, not sending word, now showing back up just in time to leave her crying thinking that not only her brother, but he was dead as well? Why had his mind tortured him all the time he had been asleep, making him see Ginny almost die again and again? Harry’s heart raced as he looked quickly at everyone in the room, finally resting his eyes upon Ginny. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, as he turned, looking directly at Arthur and Mrs. Weasley. For an instant, Harry though he saw an understanding in Mrs. Weasley’s eyes. He saw her look toward Arthur, and then back to Harry. This time in her eyes, Harry saw concern. Her eyes burned a hole into Harry’s soul, as she just stared at him, her eyes dry from tears for the moment. With his eyes, Harry could tell Mrs. Weasley was thinking, weighing something over in her mind. Harry’s heart began to beat faster. Had this been the last straw? Was he about to see the rage come out of Mrs. Weasley at Harry for taking Ron away for the past year and for ultimately leading to the death of Fred? Harry knew she had loved him like a son, but even still, Harry was only an adopted son. Ron and Fred were pureblood Weasleys, red hair and all. “Everyone out!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Arthur and I would like to speak with Harry,” she announced to all of those in the room. “Alone!” she interjected as Ginny began to open her mouth in protest. With sweeping broad waves of her arms, she began to usher everyone in the room toward the door and the staircase. Ginny paused for a moment. She had not moved from her position when she first came into the room. Harry saw in her eyes that she wanted to stay. Her mouth was still open with the unspoken protest her mother had just cut short. She wanted to hear what her parents had to say to Harry. She had every right to be there Harry thought. After all, he was crying out her name repeatedly and had just alarmed every person within earshot with his cries and moans about her. “Ginny, you too,” said Mrs. Weasley, much softer than how she had been talking before. Harry saw her whisper something to her daughter and then put an arm around her shoulder as she lead Ginny toward the door. Ginny glanced back for just a moment toward Harry. He saw a gleam in her eyes as the door closed. Harry knew that Ginny would not so easily be deterred |
| Reviews 259 |
Next
|
