The Raging Sea

Who Am I?

Hogwarts looked the same. Something about that unsettled Harry Potter. It was like biting into a beautiful apple, just for it to be rotten inside. Were the cracks in the foundation still present? What about ghosts? Why are the students excited to be back like nothing happened? Something he could almost call guilt, but not quite, churned in the back of his mind.

Eyes unfocused and ears full of static, Hermoine's distant call did not reach Harry until she slapped her notebook onto his arm.

"Harry! What is wrong? I called your name five times. Hurry up, we have to get onto the carriages." Hermoine snapped her head toward said carriages and did not spare a glance behind her for Ron and Harry.

As Harry walked to Hermoine's chosen spot, he could hear the chattering about the carriages. Between the sixth and seventh years, no wonder they could only focus on the thestrals. Harry expected to see them, but images of why they were there were still threatening to push into his mind.

The ride to the school took about five minutes. That seemed like enough time for Hermoine to pull out her book, so Ron tried to make conversation with Harry.

"Harry, do you think the castle will be the same? Or the common room? I wonder if the Room of Requirement is still there." Roon looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry looked at his hands, "Maybe, Ron. I have no idea really.

"Come on, don't be such a downer. You're acting like a bloody sob story mate. What's up?"
Harry's eyes bore into Ron's. "Nothing, Ron. I am fine. You act as if I am crying my eyes out right now."

Ron glanced away. His mouth began to open, but then closed. "I don't know mate. You just seem off."

Harry really fought the urge to roll his eyes and yell at Ron. It isn't like they are at the school that Harry watched his classmates and teachers die in front of him for his pathetic self. It's not like he didn't sacrifice himself in this school. God, he was so oblivious. "Nothing is wrong. I am good, Ron. Okay?"

Smiling, Ron replied, "Okay."

. . .

After the first years had been sorted, something Harry has always found quite boring, Professor, no, Headmaster Mcgonagall stood up and tapped her glass. The Great Hall kept thundering in volume as if she was a speck in the sky.

Headmaster Mcgonagall clapped her hands a few times while clearing her throat. As she patiently waited for the students to quiet down, she spared a glance at a particular group of Slytherins that seemed to be separated from the rest.

"Thank you, thank you," she started with a tone that screamed 'stop talking,' "Some of us could use some hearing checks. Anyways, another year of Hogwarts has come upon us. Thanks to the Ministry and quite a few volunteers, Hogwarts has been restored to its grand self, and I can say that school is back into full effect."

She paused for a moment, as if trying to put together her words. "Not one person could ignore what happened just these past couple years. We are opening Hogwarts, but we are also honoring and remembering those too young that fought. Everyday we will miss them more, but do not let that halt your experience here.

"I will be getting straight to the point, and do not mix my words, there will be no house prejudice, fighting, or targeting. The same goes for individuals. We are all given a great opportunity to be here so soon, so please do not give yourself an exit."

As Professor Mcgonagall continued, Harry scanned his eyes to look for familiar faces. Dean and Seamus, along with Neville and Ginny, returned on the Gryfindoor side. The only Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs he recognized were Luna Lovegood, Hannah Abbott, and Terry Boot. He vaguely noticed how they were sitting by eachother, despite not being friends in the past.

Moving on to the Slytherins, Harry perked up in interest. Blaise, Millicent, Pansy, Theodore, and Draco seemed to be the only returning crowd. More than he expected at least. Blaise looked the same, but Pansy seemed to amp up her makeup and appearance. Her black short hair had grown out just a little, and her face sparkled with makeup that Harry could not begin to name. Malfoy no longer had gelled back hair, rather he had the same short haircut, but his hair was slightly wavy and tousled

.

Harry definitely did not think it looked good on him. Nope.

Malfoy, because of course, must have felt Harry's eyes on him. His cold grey eyes trailed to Harry's, revealing no emotion in the process. Feeling a flush starting to appear, Harry tore his gaze away and tried to return to his meal. Harry was not a picky eater by any means. However, nothing on his plate seems appetizing. The urge to gag came upon him whenever he tried to eat. This has become more frequent ever since the war, but Harry ignored it. Surely it is just the common nerves of being back.

After what felt like hours of Hermoine staring at him and his plate, constant eyes on him everywhere, and loud chatter, dinner was over. Hermoine and Ron gathered the first years to bring to the common room, and Harry was left on his own. Perhaps he could have gone with Dean or Seamus, but that seemed like more of a chore than anything. So, he headed to the common room himself.

Walking slowly, Harry noticed a lot of changes to the castle. The paintings seemed to be quite empty. They were more frames than anything. The corridors seemed to be a bit wider, likely to let the student traffic flow, and the air seemed stale and cold. Hogwarts did not feel like the warm home he once had. Harry felt like he had to accept it like everyone else did, but it was still hurtful.

Harry eventually dragged himself up to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady was still there, and as stupid as it sounded, Harry found comfort in that fact. He mumbled, "Sugar Canes"' to get through. Much to his dismay, Ron was already heading towards him.

"Mate, let's get a round of chess in! 'Mione is already talking about schedules and.."

Harry cut him off, "I don't know Ron. I am really tired from the train ride. Didn't get much sleep last night. I think I am heading up to bed."

Ron looked at Harry for a moment before grinning. "Yeah of course Harry. Some other time, yeah?"

Harry forced a smile back. "Yeah."

. . .

The dark corridor stretched for what seemed like ages. Cold tile met Harry's bare feet. Where was he? Harry picked up his pace. The only source of light was a dim room at the end of the corridor.

As Harry crept up to the mysterious room, a pained scream ripped from the air. Harry stopped in his tracks. Is this a trap? That is not Sirius... right?

The door cracked open as Harry crept inside. His eyes met ones he knew all too well.

Fred was bleeding out. Gashes were oozing dark, rich blood, and his eyes were starting to dull.

Harry, with shaking hands, rushed to Fred's side. His hands pressed against the warm blood in an attempt to contain it. His eyes darted between Fred's face and wounds. There was no one else in the room. Harry could feel his heart starting to speed up as he realized he did not have his wand.

"Harry?" Fred croaked.

His breath quickened. Harry swallowed before managing, "Yeah."

"Why did you do this? You made him come after us." Fred had to take a second before continuing. "This is your fault Harry."

Harry felt his eyes water as he tightened his hold on Fred. "No, no Fred. This isn't. I wanted to help you guys. Right?"

Fred began to close his eyes as his breathing slowed even more. He fought for that last sentence. He truly did. Harry couldn't end the conversation with his piece. "What will George think of you Harry?"

The screams were no longer Fred's.