Shadow Walks |h.p/h.g|

ch. 13

Harry was vaguely surprised when he arrived exactly where he'd been before. Ron and Luna were gone, but the forest still loomed large at his back, and Hogwarts still stood in front of him. He looked down at the grass springing around his shoes, and his hands shook so violently that he nearly dropped his wand.

She was here. Five years ago, she was here, alive, standing on this very spot.

He shoved his wand in his pocket, and took an experimental swipe at the trunk of the nearest tree. His hand passed harmlessly through it. So I exist here somewhere... He relaxed a little, knowing that he was invisible, out of phase, and therefore unable to be harmed.

He had no clear plan in mind, but began to walk, taking a direction that carried him parallel to the forest, in the general direction of the main pathway. He supposed he had the vague idea of going up to Hogwarts, and checking out the lay of the land, so to speak, but that was quickly abandoned, as he drew closer to Hagrid's hut.

It was gone. Nothing was left, but the crumbled foundations to claim that it had ever existed at all. The garden was grown over to such an extent that even Harry's inexpert eyes could tell that it had been years. It also seemed that insidious tendrils of the forest had crept outward, teasing at the edges of what had once been cleared land.

Reflexively, he looked up toward the castle, and gasped in astonishment and horror, as his new angle revealed what had been hidden from him before. Hogwarts carried a gaping hole through its heart, the entire front face demolished. The Astronomy tower had been utterly destroyed, and Gryffindor Tower was open to the night air. Giant, jagged holes pockmarked the roof, and sundry bits of flotsam dotted the landscape - blasted furniture, rotting cloth, broken glass. Only snaggly clumps of uneven stone remained, and tall grass tufted here and there between the cracks.

But I'm still alive... I'm alive...how could this have happened?

He wondered wildly if Hermione had been in phase when she arrived, tried to imagine her horror at the sight now before him. Had she been here during the battle itself? Had it occurred five years ago, or longer? How had he lived, and yet not kept this from happening? Had it been a draw or a defeat? Was there now some kind of underground movement?

Shaking his head, he turned his back on the skeletal remains of the much-beloved home, and began to make his way toward Hogsmeade. He thought he glimpsed Dumbledore's tomb glinting in the scant moonlight. The grand gates hung half off their hinges, bowed and distorted and beginning to rust. The walls were partially crumbled, the path to the castle rutted and unkempt, and verging on overgrowth.

Hogsmeade appeared more normal, with lights spilling from windows, and the sound of raucous conversation from the Hog's Head reaching his ears. Harry found himself darting into shadows more than once, before remembering that he effectively did not exist. In a sudden panic, he thrust his hand toward his collar, to feel the reassuring intricate metal of the necklace chain, his link, his grounding, his way out.

As he made his way down the main street, he noted changes. The sweet shop was gone, as was Zonko's. Other, less savory looking establishments had taken their place, and there was a distinct, but indefinable air of seediness. Harry supposed that businesses like Honeyduke's would have more trouble staying open without a school nearby.

That thought caused his ruminations to drift back toward Hogwarts and its ruined state. If it had been damaged in battle, why was it not rebuilt? Surely five years was more than enough time to reconstruct a school - especially when the builders had magic at their disposal. Were times so bad that the renowned school was forced to languish in ruin?

It took two ineffectual grabs for the door handle at the Hog's Head for Harry to recall his status yet again, and he ended up merely strolling right through the wooden planks of the door. The pub had always been somewhat on the shady side, but now it appeared positively Dark. Wizards were hooded in grimy black, huddled in shadows, and hags clacked their toothless gums at the bar. A fight broke out in one obscure corner, and, though Harry jumped violently at the green flash of light, no one else seemed terribly concerned at the Unforgivable curse that had just been used.