'Til The End

Halloween: Part Three

When Harry first opened his eyes, Ron and Hermione were already sitting at the end of his bed. Without a single word they each crawled either side of him. Hermione found his hand and lay her head on his shoulder, while Ron put an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry found himself crying silently, his tears running down into his jumper. Hermione squeezed his hand every so often and shushed him, until the pain got too much and he turned away from her to face the pillow. Carefully, Hermione flipped him onto his back again, and offered her shoulder. He barely had to move before resting his face against her shoulder, and sobbing properly. Ron tried his best, but Hermione was a far better comforter. She positioned herself so that Harry's body was to her side, his face in her shoulder, and she could support him easily. 'Shh, shh, it's alright, it's alright. We won't leave you, you'll be ok, everything will be alright.' She repeated over and over again, rubbing his back every so often. Harry dragged himself out of bed ready for first class, despite Ron and Hermione's protests, but got shooed away by McGonagall. She paid him a visit mid-morning, at roughly eleven o'clock.

'Potter.' She said softly, after Ron had let her in. Harry was laying straight, staring directly ahead, while Hermione was curled round him. 'I know today hasn't been the best.' She started, and Harry steadily ignored her. 'I just want you to know, Lily and James would have been so proud of you. My office is always open.' And with that she left, Ron escorting her out again.

'Why is it me?' Harry croaked. 'Why is it me that deserves this? I was a baby, I never did anything to anyone. Why did my parents decide to have me so young? They were kids! All just kids playing mummies and daddies. If they hadn't been so careless maybe they'd be alive!' Harry saw Hermione and Ron exchange furtive glances over his head. 'I'm sick of being the Boy Who Lived, I'm supposed to be this fan-fucking-tastic Wizard who defeated Voldemort, but I'm not!' Neither Hermione or Ron said anything, and Harry fell silent again. The anger was ripping him up, tearing his insides and the sadness and grief lay with it, the only thing stopping him from doing something he would regret. Sirius and Remus came by, he had sobbed to Sirius, laying in his arms as though he was six-years-old again. That wasn't fair, Sirius was in just as much, if not more, pain than he was. Remus' face had been weary and pained, and Sirius' had just been so full of grief Harry wasn't even sure where to start.

The worst thing was that Harry couldn't remember them. If he had just one happy memory then maybe today wouldn't be as bad. But he didn't. Harry had nothing to remember his parents by, save a few photographs. Being so young, Harry didn't have anything from his house in Godric's Hollow, so whatever was there that night would still be there, gathering dust. As nightfall came Harry didn't move, apart from to try and convince Ron and Hermione to go to the Halloween feast. 'Don't stay here for me.' He had mumbled, but of course that made not a jot of difference. Ron and Hermione sat there, comforting Harry when he cried, and just laying with him when he didn't. Hermione was forced to leave when the other boys came in from dinner, although they assured her she could stay if she wanted. Harry eventually managed to shake Ron off as well, and after changing he lay in his bed, the curtains drawn, crying himself to sleep.

All day the pain was raw, tearing Harry's usual composer and ripping it down completely. Now, as Harry lay there, the pain just turned numb, so he felt nothing at all.