About Harry

Chapter 16 - I need my wand

He walked randomly, tirelessly; he didn't know which way he took nor where he was going. The throbbing in his head wasn't abating. All his muscles were contracted and rigid, all his sensations numbed by the disarray swirling in his head.
After marching a few blocks in this condition, he slowed down out of breath. The confusion decreased enough to allow him to take in what was going on. It was now dark, in a wintery cold night, he had got out without a jacket and that realisation brought him to shiver. His shirt was ripped, the cuts he had inflicted himself were losing blood that needed to be stopped somehow and his right hand was pulsating, two fingers were painful and stiff.
He didn't know where he was, lost in London's mazes made of council houses and passerby who all of sudden looked baleful, without a wand, vulnerable.
There was a pharmacy not far and he got inside. The white light blinded him for a moment and his body started shacking once the muscles relaxed in the warmth of the shop.
Behind the counter, a bald, old muggle with round glasses was stocking some shelves giving him his back, when he turned to serve him he gaped perceiving Harry's appearance.
'I've been assaulted, I need some bandages.' Harry explained flatly.
'My dear boy, you need to go to the hospital' the old man replied alarmed, but then observing the cuts on his forearm, a bit too neat, he faltered.
'They seem like glass cuts to me...' he added, as doubt was taking the place of alarm. He opened his mouth to ask for an elucidation, but Harry interrupted him 'I've been assaulted, and I need some bandages.' He repeated aggressively thrusting a £20 note on the counter.
The old man, growing afraid by his behaviour, disappeared quickly in the back and returned with what was asked avoiding any other exchange.
Taking the merchandise, he left the shop. He clumsily wrapped his arm tightly while the cold was biting on his skin again, causing violent tremble. There could have been many possible ways to right the situation with a wand, but without, not many. Not with a mind so foggy as it was at that moment. It didn't give him any other option but to return home. And he complied, all his reasoning powers debilitated.
Ginny and the kids were having dinner. He wasn't registering well what was happening around him yet, not even that the kitchen was back in order. He just needed a wand.
'I need your wand' he said to Ginny.
'Harry what...' Ginny asked alarmed seeing his shirt and the bandages popping out from it.
'I NEED YOUR WAND, I SAID!' he shouted aggressively.
Ginny winced, her eyes widening in fright. The kids stiffened in terror, their gaze darting from one to the other.
'It's on my bed side table.' she murmured with a voice barely audible.
He was gone from the kitchen as soon as he got the answer shutting himself in the room, and with Ginny's wand he started to pronounce incantations to heal the cuts on his forearm. He tried his best on his hand, but it was more difficult not knowing exactly what was wrong. Going to St. Mungo's was out of the question however. The idea to meet or to talk with anybody was unbearable.
He tried a few spells, and, in the end, he managed to open and close his hand without pain. It was enough.
He laid on his bed fully clothed praying to fall asleep as soon as possible because being awake was the nightmare he wanted to wake up from. He did eventually, but it wasn't the restful doze he was looking for.
Confused visions crowded his mind. Nightmare after nightmare following one another.
Flashes of images muddled, transforming continuously. New and old dreams blending in a muddy pool of shapes and colours. Lily dropping down hit by Voldemort, him tied to Tom Riddle's tomb stone, in the graveyard, uncapable to move, and Ron was suddenly Voldemort killing her and then his own devilish face looking at him from the mirror. Only that it wasn't his face any longer, he was him, he was Voldemort! A ferocious Voldemort killing Ron. And then Lily on the snow again, her hair becoming blood, flowing everywhere, expanding in a blinding red puddle around her body, and Ted's eyes where he could see a reflection of his sickened soul, a sickened soul that hit Ron... And he would wake up for a brief instant to fall again in the same uneasy slumber, more than once, in an endless succession of ghastly visions.
That night, sleep, didn't offer him the nothing he was hoping to get. Quite the opposite. He made him live everything that happened in the previous days, over and over.
He didn't wake up rested, but exhausted, more so than when he went to sleep.
He hadn't screamed as he had done in the past when having his nightmares however, Ginny would have woken him up. She would have soothed him.
But Ginny hadn't slept there at all, he was alone.
A twinge of longing for her pervaded him for an instant, replaced very quickly by a riled bitterness.
So much the better.
He didn't want to be close to any human being, Ginny especially. He couldn't bear her tears. It made Harry feel even worse, even more angry. He didn't want to explore why it made him feel that way, but he knew. He just wanted to suppress Lily's death as he had always done with what had pained him in his life but probably the cup was to full. And Ginny crying wouldn't allow him to try anyway. He knew he was behaving unreasonably but he didn't feel up to the task of comforting her and he didn't want to feel guilty about it. His hands were full already trying to master the fury inside him.
She had been in the room though. He was covered with a blanket and her wand had disappeared. She probably didn't trust him with it.
He considered his options. He could have gone to the Shell cottage to retrieve his own, but it would have meant to see the spot where Lily had died, and he couldn't bring himself to it.
He must get out however, in an impulse to escape his family full of needs he couldn't satisfy. He needed to be alone.
Going to work was the best solution. Hardly anybody would be in the office on the 27th of December. It would have been safe and quiet.
Ginny was waiting for him downstairs.
'Where are you going?' she asked observing him putting his jacket on.
'To work' he answered shortly.
'It's the 27th of December'
He didn't reply and made to the door.
'Harry...' she followed trying to stop him reaching out, but his reflexes were good. He caught her wrist before she could touch him.
It was so thin and fragile he felt he could have broken it easily if he wanted to.
He looked at her white scared face, she was slightly in pain, but he didn't free her yet. He talked slowly to make sure she would get every word of what he was about to say, anew he had to warn her.
'For your own good, and mine, stay away from me.'
That simple contact with her skin was triggering something vicious in him, his dangerous new-self was begging to be unleashed. It must be controlled. He gathered all his strength and released her. A split second later he was out in the drizzling street of London, walking as fast as he could to distance himself from that house, not to hurt her.

As he had foreseen the Ministry was almost empty. Only a few people were there. Nobody tried to get close to him, probably seeing from his expression or out of sensitivity that it wasn't the right thing to do. He could see from the pity on their face that they knew though.
Of course! Everybody knows what is happening to Harry Potter.
He was so sick of it. That's why he liked the muggle word. Nobody would give a damn about him there.
He kept himself busy up to the evening. It was heaven to have his mind on something concrete and he felt better while working. He was on a new case, a potentially dangerous wizard that was suspected in having performed already a few Imperius Curses against muggles to make them kill each other in very gruesome manners. The pictures attached to the files would have made anybody who wasn't accustomed to these kind of things, extremely sick.
It was full of those deranged individuals in those days. Some were just fools, attention seeking, while some others turned out to be quite dangerous, like this one for example. All of them were united in using slight variations of Voldemort's name. It was keeping the whole department very busy and there was always work to be done. However, everything was difficult without a wand; erasing words on parchment, refilling his ink bottles, tidying pictures and files... He felt uneasy and clumsy. He had to get his own back.
When he was done for the day, he got his jacket and took the lift to the main floor. The place was completely quiet now, and his steps on the marble floor reverberated in the wide and empty space.
After the Hogwarts' battle, when he was seventeen, the statue, had been changed again. At first, it had been talked to build one of him with his wand pointing against Voldemort's body lying defeated, but he opposed himself with such impetuosity to the project that they had to abandon it. In the end they opted for one, white and shining, where a wizard and a witch were standing in the centre, on their respective side there was a centaur and a house elf all looking fiery and under their feet the body of Voldemort. It stood to represent the unity of different races in front of the danger.
It didn't exactly report the truth.
Centaurs, after having participate to the battle, had disappeared in the forest refusing to get in contact with humans any longer and most of the house elves were still enslaved. Most because of their own choice obviously. Hermione was still fighting her battle to help them and slowly, through education of the young ones, things had started to change, some of them had been freed, some had asked for it and they were now employed and paid for their job. But it was the minority, they were still in a weak position in the magical world.

He didn't use the floopowder to get home. He felt like walking being quite sedate. But it didn't last long, as he was getting near to his place uneasiness started to get hold of him again. Ginny and the kids were there confused and terrified by his behaviour, so different from what it used to be. He wasn't any longer the Harry they once knew and loved, a new Harry that couldn't be controlled, full of hatred and resentment, had taken that place.
He would have to pain them, and himself, because he could not be what they wanted him to be. He wasn't that person anymore.
As he was expecting, Ginny was there, waiting for him. A presence that was only making him confront to his inadequacy in a mute reproach.
He didn't greet or kiss her affectionately as he would have done in the past when returning from work. He kept a safe distance.
'I need my wand.' he said austere 'You must go to Shell cottage and get it for me.'
But, in front of him, there wasn't the whining and scared Ginny of the previous days. She was the tough one Harry was used to.
A flash of fire passed in her eyes.
'I'm not your slave. I won't allow you to boss me around'.
'I'll go by myself then' he concluded overtaking her and going for the room.
'You will not find it there' she said after him.
'Why?'
'I've been there today, and I've got it here.'
'Give it to me then' he said reaching out.
'I won't. I need to talk to you about something and you must hear me out. When I'm done you can have it.'
Perhaps because her face was stern without any trace of tears and so determined, he followed her to the living room, but he didn't sit down. He would listen and then get out.
'I sent James and Albus to the Burrow. I thought it was best since...' she didn't complete the sentence, but he could complete it for her.
Since I'm behaving insane and I'm positively dangerous.
He didn't say it aloud and waited for the rest. Surely, she wasn't bothering him only for this. After a few seconds of silence however, irritated by it, he urged her 'Are you waiting for my approval or what?'
She shook her head losing her confidence. But losing her confidence she was also losing her grip on him.
'I'm worried about you. I think you should come with me to St. Mungo's to get...'
He interrupted her 'I'm not going anywhere. My arm is fine. I mended it by myself'
'I'm not talking about your arm.' She replied looking fixedly at him.
Harry getting her meaning barked, his eyes flashing 'Are you calling me mad?'
Ginny didn't reply faltering under his gaze.
'I don't want to talk to you anymore. Give me my wand.'
'I must talk to you about Ron as well' she let out quickly, fearing his reaction.
'I said I don't want to talk to you anymore, especially about Ron. Nothing you have to tell me about him can interest me in any way. I want my wand'
She started panicking, fretting and talking faster 'Harry, you must listen to me. You must speak to the right people to set him free. He is in Azkaban, he tried...'
Harry didn't let her finish 'Ginny, stop talking this instant. Do you seriously think I care?' He yelled in a temper. 'Do you seriously think I would use my influence, which by the way, I have never used, to free him?' he was bewildered by what was asked of him. How could she possibly believe he would do something of the kind for Ron after what had passed? How could she wanted him out? He killed their daughter! This request alienated him further from her. It seemed almost an offence toward Lily it could not be bore.
'Perhaps you are working under the delusion that when I beat Ron it was out of shock and I didn't mean to. You are wrong. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to kill him. I would do it again given the chance.'
He was speaking slowly and sharply now, and he could see the shock on Ginny's face. He went on 'For what concerns me, he can fuck himself and die in there.'
As he said it, he left the room, he didn't care about his wand anymore, he just had to get away from her. He didn't trust himself.
Ginny stood there, looking at him leaving. She didn't try to follow nor to speak.
She just stood there, in silence.