Resurrection

Between nightmares and his ghost

Harry James Potter Evans
July 31, 1980 - May 2, 1998

He is gone, but he will not be forgotten.

Thick, hot tears ran down her cheeks constantly, without stopping for a second. His hand covered his mouth so that the sobs that came from it would not interrupt the great silence that was in the place. Beside her, Ron could see the empty grave marker, the symbol that had been made in Harry's honor, for his body had disintegrated in the woods on the day of the battle.

Most of the attendees for that day had already left, leaving only her and Ron in the cold and heavy rain, the two under an umbrella coming out of the redhead's wand, so that at least they wouldn't end up soaking wet, although it was almost impossible, his clothing of a black color that inspired desolation and sadness was no longer dry at all.

Hermione's body trembled slightly, she didn't know if it was because of the cold or simply because she was experiencing one of her greatest fears in life, seeing Harry's name engraved on that symbol that reminded her that he was gone and would never come back...

And she hadn't been able to do anything to save him, she had seen him disintegrate in midair. A deep, wrenching sob escaped her despite trying to stop it, which made Ron look at her sadly and put his arm around her shoulders awkwardly and friendly but at the same time in a sign of support.

From that time on, things had never been the same for anyone. The wizarding world was silent and depressed, everyone was still grieving for their losses...

Hermione, Unlike many, the girl had distanced herself a bit from her classmates and family, in an attempt to better process things and be able to accept Harry's departure. But that was something impossible.

The simple fact of belonging to the wizarding world reminded her of it, reminded her of her best friend walking away from her, her best friend facing the death eaters and Voldemort, her best friend fighting to survive every year.

All those memories appeared before her in the day, at all hours and at night, she couldn't stop reliving everything that happened that night again in her mind, she couldn't stop seeing Harry disintegrate in her hands without receiving help from no one.

Right at that very moment, Hermione's gasps echoed throughout the room after waking up from a horrible dream like her usual.

Cold sweat broke out all over his body, as evidence that it had all just been a bad dream again.

"But not so bad..." she said to herself.

Well, she had seen Harry's death, but in the end just before waking up, he appeared next to her, holding her hand, smiling at her, alive...

That seemed curious to her, it wasn't the first time he had dreamed of Harry smiling at her side after that event.

A part of her told her to look beyond those dreams and try to find some logic in them, but that part of Hermione, which found anything to do with divination or dream interpretation ridiculous, took over and left her in the state she was in at the time.

She was curled up on her bed, snuggling against the blankets, trying to get some warmth through them. A shaky sigh left her lips before deciding to go back to sleep, she was about to, but a sound next to her distracted her...

Her head, on instinct, snapped wildly to his right, where the little old nightstand was. She couldn't see anything other than a glass of water she'd left a couple of hours ago to hydrate himself for the night. Beside her, a moving photograph rested on the small table. Unlike now, she seemed very happy, or at least not broken and more energetic.

In this photograph, she was jumping with a worried expression into Harry's arms, the two of them under the tent where he had to wait for his turn in the first task of the triwizard tournament, something that had happened in his fourth year.