Desolation of The Hero

x . chapter one . x

August 2nd, 1998

It had been three months.

Three months since Voldemort's death.

That's when the nightmares began.

I woke up with searing pain setting my scar on fire. The splitting agony quickly overwhelmed my nerves, causing my limbs to jerk and tears to prick at my eyes. In my attempt to hold back a scream, I let out a shaky whimper. My hand rushed to my forehead, and I brushed the familiar scar gently as the pain licked at my temples. All I allowed was silent tears to fall as I battled with the agony that was threatening to overwhelm me.

After the pain had transformed into a dull throb, my thoughts left their hiding place and began urgently forming the words in my mind:

Why was this happening?

I turned to look at Ronald Weasley, who was sleeping in a bed opposite of mine. To no surprise, Hermione Granger was in the bed with him, her bushy curls just barely visible under Ron's chin. I could see Ron's arms curled protectively around her, the scars that sliced across his skin painfully evident in the limited moonlight. A twinge of familiar guilt spiked in my chest as I stared at those scars.

The war may have ended, but who's to say that any of us have fully recovered?

One thing I had noticed as I drew out of my one-month phase of reclusiveness is how the public seemed oblivious to my suffering. I hated to admit it to myself in such a rude manner, but did anyone know what survivor's guilt was?

I was still healing from my godfather's death, after all. Seeing so many innocent people die during the Battle of Hogwarts as many liked to call it was still too much to bear. I carried each and everyone one of their lives on my shoulders as I continued on with my life, the life I chose to continue living.

The traitorous what-if question that occupied my mind during these sleepless nights was one I refused to dwell on. What if I had boarded that train?

I shook my head to clear myself of those thoughts. There was no way I could be thinking of this, not when so many sacrificed so much to keep me alive. I didn't want to be a burden to anyone anymore.

I flopped back onto the mattress, my head hitting the pillow with a soft thud. I carefully pulled the soft material of the covers closer and shut my eyes. Tomorrow I was serving testimony at Draco Malfoys and Narcissa Malfoy's trial. When asked about Lucius Malfoy's, I couldn't help but shake my head. After all he had done, I found no reason to.

As I let my mind wander, I felt myself slip into a drowsy state and slowly into a purely unconscious one.

~*~

August 31st, 1998

I was walking down the cobblestone roads of Diagon Alley next to Ron and Hermione, listening idly as the two chatted happily. Every now and then a sentence would cause a faint smile to play upon my face, but other than this I felt dull.

Ron apparently noticed this, because soon enough I felt his hand rest on my shoulder. All of us stopped, and I tilted my head backward slightly to look at him. When had he grown this tall? His red hair and freckled face was as familiar as ever, yet the concern that shone in his eyes was so painstakingly rare I couldn't help but feel surprised.

"You alright, mate? Look, if you don't want to be here in the public with us, you could always hand us your list and we could do the shopping for you."

To my shock, I felt tears prick at the corner of my eyes. Quickly turning away, I let out a sigh. "Thanks for the offer, but no, Ron. I can handle the public, it's fine."

The hand slid from my shoulder after a few moments of hesitance, and I looked up to find the concern still evident. In an attempt to erase this, I gave him a surprisingly strong smile. "It'll be fine, Ron." He smiled back, and the three of us continued walking.

Eventually, we all were hovering outside of Flourish and Blotts. Despite everything, Hermione had never lost her love for books. She had been telling Ron excitedly that morning that she planned on reading a six thousand page book to break her record of five thousand, to which Ron gave me a "how does she do it?" look and nodded with slight enthusiasm.

"Harry. Harry? HARRY!"

I let out a noise of surprise and stumbled backward, instinctively reaching for my wand. As I realized who it was, however, my hand returned to my side. Neville Longbottom was looking at me with widened eyes.

"You alright there, Harry?" The boy from his many years at Hogwarts with the same hesitant, round face despite slaying the snake Nagini those months ago was standing above me. I blinked once, twice before regaining my composure. "Ah, sorry, Neville." I attempted a sheepish grin. "Just spaced out."

Neville spared me a smile. "Just checking. You might want to go in, I saw Ron and Hermione walking in. Seemed distracted, so I guess they didn't notice you." I nodded thankfully before walking inside, pushing the door open as I entered. I smiled at the warm familiarity of the shop as I adjusted my glasses, waving a greeting to the store owner before setting off to find my friends.

I found them quite quickly in a nearby aisle. Ron was frowning, and Hermione looked excited. "Found it! Now let's go get our other books- Oh, hi Harry! Did we... Oh my gosh, sorry, sorry! I didn't notice we left you out there!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching for him. Harry threw his hands up suddenly. "It's fine, 'Mione! Really." She noticeably relaxed, and soon her excited face was back into the spotlight. I couldn't help but chuckle.

Ron smiled at the small noise I'd uttered. "Glad to see you on two feet again, Harry. Now let's get our books before Hermione scolds us on irresponsibility," he joked. To my pleasant surprise, I laughed. A genuine, friendly laugh that I hadn't made in a while. The warm feeling of happiness was seeping into my muscles, and soon I was walking next to my friends with a small smile.

The day continued as any normal preparing-for-Hogwarts day. I had forgot to mention that Hermione had practically forced me and Ron to go back and take our N.E.W.Ts. "I know you'll both get easy passes on jobs, but education is important!" She had scolded us. Eventually we gave in as to avoid her real wrath.

The day sped by quite quickly, to my avail, and soon I was lying in bed again, staring at the ceiling as several thoughts swamped my mind. To my later surprise, I fell asleep quicker than usual, yet this night was the slow beginning of many terrible nights.

I was floating in an endless black void. My wand was no longer with me. I floated there, taking in my empty surroundings, until I noticed two bright, blood red eyes glowering at me.

I took a step back as the eyes grew closer. Eventually, the tall figure emerged from the melting shadows, exposing itself as Voldemort. My breath caught in surprising fear; Voldemort was supposed to be dead.

His hollowed out eyes and sickeningly pale skin stood out in the darkness. He looked like he was dying. "Missed me?" He said in the cold voice, yet it was much more hoarse. I tried to run or something, but I soon realized I couldn't move.

I stood there helplessly as Voldemort approached me, withdrawing his wand from his robe pocket. He yanked his arm toward him, drawing back my sleeve. I tried to make a sound of protest, but nothing came out. That's when he stabbed his wand into my arm, and incredible pain blossomed from the spot.

The only sound I was allowed to make in this terrible dream was screams of agony that ripped from my throat. This pain was unlike any I had ever experienced. Blood (or that's what I thought it was at first) poured out of a shape being carved into my arm at impossible rates, and the only sound I could hear aside from my screams was the cackling that echoed from Voldemort as the shape was completed. He drew back, and with a flick of his wand the blood stopped pouring. I was shaking uncontrollably as I looked at the shape.

It was the Dark Mark shape, a fresh wound sliced into my arm. I looked up at him in terror, and that's when I began falling.

It was also when my screams of terror could be heard throughout the night, ringing through the hallways.