On Hollow Ground

Chapter 1

A/N: This story contains graphic depictions of violence, torture, and extremist content that some readers may find disturbing. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Let the reading begin!

Dark clouds hung in the sky, shrouding the moon, which had moments before casting a silvery glow on Hogwarts castle. I sat on the damp grass, the earth beneath me cold and unyielding in contrast to the warmth that once radiated from the heart of our beloved school. Now, an unsettling silence enveloped everything, amplifying the weight of my despair, rendering the occasional comforting hand on my shoulder futile and distant.

"He can't be dead... he can't be," Hagrid repeated, his voice tinged with a deep, gnawing denial that mirrored the sentiment lodged in the pit of my own stomach. How could this be the end? This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. The words wavered in the air, heavy with disbelief, barely rising above the soft sounds of anguish that permeated the crowd of students and teachers.

I gripped my wand tightly, the cool surface grounding me as icy fingers of wind danced around my neck. Shivers raced down my spine, not from the cold but from the terrible reality before me—Albus Dumbledore, our guiding light, lay motionless on the Hogwarts grounds. Just hours ago, we had ventured into the depths of a cave to hunt down a horcrux; another piece of an immortal puzzle had been retrieved, but at what cost? Now a pall of darkness blanketed my mind, each heartbeat underscoring a relentless ache with the finality of loss.

The loss of Sirius still felt painfully fresh, even a year later. The sorrow had carved out a hollow space within me, where hope once resided. I never anticipated another wound so soon, one so deep that it left me struggling to breathe.

Tears welled in my eyes as I fixated on the grass, counting blades and tracing their edges, anything to avoid the painful truth. Yet, the realization sank deeper—it felt cruel to hide, to deny the horror and grief etched on the faces of the mourners, my friends, as they leaned towards me, wishing to comfort me. Though I sensed their worried glances, all I felt was a crushing isolation, alone in a suffocating darkness.

Arms suddenly enveloped me, a protective cocoon that exuded warmth. Yet, I flinched and pushed it away, feeling undeserving of comfort. Dumbledore lay lifeless before me, and those around me were shattered. I tried to take deep, steady breaths, but each inhale turned ragged as deeper panic pushed against my ribs, demanding release. In a futile effort to halt the relentless tide of grief, I pressed my palms against my temples, only compounding the ache.

A soft, trembling voice uttered "Harry...", but its words were lost on me. An overwhelming emptiness had taken hold, a void no language could fill. My throat constricted, rendering me speechless. Any words would feel woefully inadequate to express the heaviness weighing on my heart or make sense of this senseless absence.

As I turned, I caught sight of Ron and Hermione, tears streaming down their cheeks. I yearned to reassure them, to promise that we would overcome this trial together, drawing strength from Dumbledore's teachings. Yet I remained silent, paralyzed by the throes of sorrow, devoid of resolve or assurance to offer.

My gaze remained fixed on Dumbledore's unmoving chest, desperately searching for any sign of life. As I finally looked up, I found myself surrounded by a sea of students and professors, their faces a blur of concern and disbelief. The tragedy had seemed to leach all color from the world, leaving behind only muted shades of grief and despair.

"Harry, we... we should go," Ron croaked hoarsely, his gaze averted. The simple suggestion carried a weighty gravity that churned my stomach.

Hagrid's gentle nudge on my shoulder broke through the muffled cries and sobs around us. "Let's go, Harry, 'fore the night gets darker," he rumbled, his voice thick with sorrow, yet laced with the kindness that pulled me back from the abyss. I looked around, hoping against reason that magic might conjure him back, his warm laughter filling our hearts once more.