Strange Teachers

Chapter 14

——Harry——

I watched, rooted to the spot, as the memory played out in front of me. Sirius and Bellatrix were duelling; sending flashes of red and green back and forth. For a moment, the colours reminded me of Christmas, but then I remembered what would happen next.

My feet strained to move, but, no matter how hard I tried, they couldn't move an inch. That's why I dreaded this dream so much. That's why this was almost worse than when he died the first time. That's why I wished I could look away.

But I didn't—couldn't. I watched helplessly as my godfather was hit and went flying through the arch, towards the whispers that only I could hear.

I thought it was over; this is where it always ended. I would wake up in a cold sweat and go on with my life. The life that Sirius and so many others gave their own to save.

Apparently, I was wrong.

A ghostly figure floated from behind me. It looked familiar, and when it turned around, I was staring into Ginny's glassy eyes, Ginny's pale face. Then, it hit me: I was looking into her dead eyes, her dead face. Tears welled in my eyes, so that I could barely see her mouth move when she spoke.

"You did this to me, Harry. You did this to all of us."

That was when they all started to appear. The ghosts of all of my friends, dead or alive. First Ron, then Hermione, Lupin, Tonks holding Teddy, Neville, my mum and dad, Moody, Snape, Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, Luna, Hedwig, Hagrid, and many more.

They all just stood there with resentful looks and angry postures, and I shifted uncomfortably. But that meant that my feet were unstuck from the ground, so I rushed forward, trying to reach all of the people I'd ever lost or feared losing.

As I got closer, the furthest from me started to fade into the arch, like they were being sucked towards it. It broke my heart, but I only sped up, determined to reach my friends and parents. I didn't care that it was all a dream. I could save them. I would save them.

Pretty soon, only my two best friends, my parents, and my girlfriend were left in front of me. Hermione faded, then Ron, then Ginny's wisps of red hair disappeared, before it was only me and my parents.

"Please. Please don't leave me," I begged.

"We didn't leave you, Harry," my father said. "You killed us."

"Voldemort was after you," my mum continued. "I sacrificed myself for you—and for what? To have you go around letting all of our friends die? I should never have saved you."

And with that, the two of them were gone, leaving me broken. Dream or no dream, that couldn't be my mother. My mother was sweet and kind and loved me. But did she really? She was just doing her part in the war: protecting you.

Having lost all control, I ran, but just as I went through the arch, I reappeared right back where I started, and was facing it all over again. After countless other tries, I dropped to my knees on the cold, hard floor. The sound of my panting and the eerily whispering voices were the only noises disturbing the heavy silence. Until they weren't anymore.

"Poor, poor hero, you haven't even scratched the surface."

— - — - —

My eyes snapped open to stare at the canopy above my bed in gryffindor tower. My breath started to catch, and I couldn't hold back the sobs.

My hopes that no one had heard were all but crushed when the curtain was slung open.

Despite  my slightly fuzzy eyesight brought on by tears, the signature red hair of the Weasley family stuck out against the dark fabric. Ron was clearly still half asleep, but he'd come to check on me anyway. That made me feel marginally better.

"Hey, mate," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Ron. Just a bad dream."

His face became more alert, and he shook his head to rid it of the typical grogginess at—I checked the watch on my bedside table—3:19 in the morning.

"It's never just a bad dream though, is it?"

He looked tired of these things, and he knew how they worked. It only served to make me feel even more guilty. I'd had enough 'just bad dream's during and after the war, but I was getting better at not letting anyone notice.

"I know; I'm sorry, mate." I sighed. "I can usually deal with recurring ones, but this one was new. Well, not new, but different."

"Different, how?" he asked.

"It wasn't just reliving a painful memory this time; it just changed. It turned into all of you d-dying and b-blaming m-me," I explained through my returning tears. "Then, y-you all l-left, and the strangest thing happened."

That voice. I didn't even know that voice, so how could my subconscious come up with it? That was what really puzzled me.

"A-a woman's voice. It said something—something scary. I'm sure it was nothing, though." He gave me a sceptical look. "I'm fine, really."

"If you're sure... I'm going to go back to bed."

"Yeah." He turned to leave. "And Ron? Thank you."

My best friend smiled a drowsy and hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless.

When he closed the burgundy drapings, I leaned back onto my pillow and thought about the nightmare.

I know that everyone who died on our side of the war did it by choice, but it bothered me. What if I could've saved them if I hadn't been trying to find the diadem. Maybe I could've found it later, and saved more of them. And what if we hadn't destroyed all of the Ministry's time-turners? We might've been able to go back and save them.

What's worse, that woman told me that those wouldn't be my last losses. I had to hope that she was just a figment of my imagination, or I might go crazy. So, instead of staying still for three more hours, I got up.

— - — - —

A/N: First, I am so sorry for the late update! School just started to pick up speed, and I had a bit of writer's block.

Second, l'shanah tovah! Have a great 5781! (for those who are confused, today is Rosh Hashanah, which is the Jewish new year) My Chavurah had a zoom service last night and today, both containing a lot of COVID-19 puns and speeches, which was great, but made me a bit nostalgic.

Until next week!