And Oh, My Dreams
Wednesday, 12 July 1995
Cedric,
You promised. You promised you’d take me away. You promised I wouldn’t have to come back here, you promised you’d never leave, you promised you’d love me forever but what’s forever if I’m here alone? Here without you? Here without my sun, my moon, my stars? You are everything to me, Ced, and now you’re gone. What am I supposed to do about that?
I haven’t slept through the night since it happened. I can’t close my eyes without seeing yours staring back at me, lifeless. How am I supposed to go on without you here with me?
We had a funeral for you at school. Dumbledore told everyone how you died and now they’re all afraid. I got shuffled back to Surrey without a second thought.
I gave our winnings to the twins to go toward their shop. It’s about to get dark. Well, darker. And I thought that meant everyone could use a laugh. I thought you’d agree.
Your parents came to see me the morning after. Matthew wasn’t there, I’m not sure where he was. If your dad didn’t like me before, he absolutely hates me now. But your mum was kind. I tried to give them the winnings, but they wouldn’t take them. When your dad left, your mum hung back and gave me a hug and thanked me for brining you back so they could bring you home.
It turned out that Moody was an imposter, Barty Crouch, Jr. if you can imagine. But Fudge had him kissed before he could make a real statement that he was involved or that Voldemort’s back, I’m fairly certain that’s going to blow up in my face sometime soon but I’m past the point of caring.
I’m angry all the time, Ced. Angry at you, angry at the world, angry at myself.
I miss you. I miss you so much it physically hurts and I hate you too. I miss you and I hate you, but I love you more. I love you more than I miss you and I love you more than I hate you and I think that’s why it hurts so much.
I wish you were here, Ced.
Love always,
Harry
* * *
Harry thought he was out of tears but as he stared at his rambling mess of a letter to a dead man his eyes welled up once more. He thought of lighting it on fire but decided against it. Instead, he folded it up and shoved it into the back of the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of first year and hid the whole thing below his floorboards.
No one would tell Harry anything. He was alone in Surrey with grief so heavy it would topple an elephant, and no one would answer any of his questions. Missing Cedric sat on his chest like an anvil, it followed him everywhere, lurking in the shadows, draped over him as a shroud.
* * *
Wednesday, 2 August 1995
Missing Cedric and being cut off from his friends had initially made Harry angry, but as the weeks went on, it just made him depressed.
He knew it was bad, but he didn’t realize how bad until he didn’t notice the dementors were there until they were staring him in the face.
Finding a memory to conjure a Patronus was both easier and harder than it had ever been.
“I love you Harry,” Cedric’s voice whispered in his ear as Prongs sprung forth from his wand.
When he got Dudley home and got that letter saying he was expelled, he was momentarily relieved. Being expelled meant he wouldn’t have to go back to Hogwarts where Cedric was in the very stones. Where his voice echoed through the halls and his grin was waiting around every corner.
He could pack a bag and run away. He knew he could exchange some galleons for pounds at Gringotts and he knew the vault his parents had left him was rather well stocked, he’d be able to get far, far away from here before anyone was the wiser. Especially if he used muggle transport. The wizarding world sucked at figuring out muggle stuff and, as Hermione said, was severely lacking in common sense.
But then the next owls arrived, and the dream died.
* * *
The rest of the summer passed in a haze. He was tried in front of the entire Wizengamot for underage magic which, if he weren’t constantly fading away, would’ve made him rather pissed. But, instead, he just sat there and watched it happen. Dumbledore swooped in to save the day and Harry couldn’t have cared less.
It seemed the only person who noticed that Harry was a shell of his former self was Remus and, thinking back on it, it was probably because he was intimately familiar with the feeling.
He tried to get to know Sirius better but neither of them was all there.
The Order had invaded Sirius’ house and Harry was rather unimpressed. They couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, let alone a solid plan to counter Voldemort.
There was something about the house that set Harry on edge, it wasn’t just the lingering feel of dark magic or the strangely sinister magic he could feel radiating from one of the display cases in the library, it was as if the magic that held the very house together was calling his name. If he were even 5% more of a functional human being, he might’ve thought to ask someone about it but, as it stood, all his energy was focused on making it through the day.
Then Moody showed him that picture of the original Order and whatever was left of Harry’s soul shattered. Nearly every single person in that picture was dead or irreparably broken and now they were looking into the eyes of a second war which had already seen its first casualty and Harry couldn’t help but look around the room and wonder how many of these people would be left standing at the end, something in him told him that it wouldn’t be very many.
The days passed and the 1st of September arrived, and Harry packed his trunk and headed to the station and laughed at Sirius sneaking along with them as Padfoot, even though he privately agreed with everyone who was telling him he was a massive sodding idiot for doing so.
Harry was so checked out of life that he was shocked when the girl with long blond hair who Ginny introduced as Luna looked straight in his eyes and he felt himself crashing back to Earth.
“You’re Harry Potter,” she said.
“I know I am,” Harry said, not able to come up with anything else.
Neville laughed and Luna turned her eyes upon him, “I don’t know who you are.”
“I’m nobody,” Neville said.
“No you’re not,” Ginny said sharply and Harry nearly hugged her, “Neville Longbottom – Luna Lovegood. Luna’s in my year, but in Ravenclaw.”
“With beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure,” Luna said before she raised her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Neville and Harry stared at each other, eyebrows raised and Ginny tried to suppress a giggle.
Something in Harry’s soul felt settled surrounded by these people. Neville always felt like home for some reason and Ginny knew him better than most and there was something about Luna that made Harry’s shoulders relax.
“Guess what I got for my birthday?” Neville said.
“Another Remembrall?” Harry teased.
“No,” Neville said, “I could do with one though, I lost the old one ages ago. No, look at this,” he dug the hand that wasn’t holding Trevor in a firm grip into his schoolbag and pulled out a small gray cactus that appeared to be covered in boils, “mimbulus mimbletonia,” he said, as if that meant anything to Harry.
Harry tried to be interested, he really did, but he felt himself zoning out. Well, he was until he was splashed in the face by cactus slime. As he was trying to wipe it off, the compartment door opened and a shy voice said, “oh, sorry, bad time?”
Harry looked up and saw Cho Chang standing in the doorway with a sad smile.
Everything came crashing back down over Harry’s head and he felt the breath leave his lungs. That was enough of feeling again, being numb was much easier.
“Hi,” Harry said blankly.
“Um,” Cho muttered, “well, just thought I’d say hello, bye then.”
She closed the door as she left, and Harry finished cleaning the Stinksap off his face and clothes before he returned to staring into the mid distance.
Ginny and Neville both knew him well enough to know they weren’t going to get through to him and Luna was too invested in her copy of the Quibbler to try.
Somehow, the train reached Hogsmeade. Harry vaguely remembered Malfoy stopping by but the ride after he’d seen Cho was largely one big blur. He was entirely numb to the world until he saw whatever it was that was pulling the carriages.
The magic of the creatures reached out to Harry and wrapped his soul in a warm hug, and he was nearly overcome with grief.
Grief had been weighing on him since the 24th of June, it had made him angry then depressed then numb but right now, staring at whatever these creatures were, it felt fresh and, somehow, felt oddly like it could be overcome.
* * *
Friday, 15 December 1995
Harry was standing in front of the mirror where they’d hung up photos and articles and notes that motivated them. He was looking into grey eyes that haunted his nights, dreams and nightmares alike, when he heard someone sniff behind him.
He turned and saw Cho standing in the middle of the room, tears pouring down her face.
“What’s up?” he said, his voice breaking.
She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and shook her head, “I’m sorry, I suppose it’s just learning all this stuff. It just makes me wonder whether, if he’d known it all … would he still be alive?”
Harry’s heart sank and his breath caught, and tears welled up in his eyes. He’d been avoiding Cho for this very reason, she wanted to talk about Cedric, and he was the last thing Harry wanted to talk about with anyone except for maybe, maybe Neville.
“He did know this stuff,” he said, thinking back to all the time they’d spent training for the third task. Learning and mastering new spells between telling stories and sharing kisses, “he was really good at it. But if Voldemort really wants to kill you, you don’t stand a chance.”
That was a rather lame excuse, especially given the fact that Pettigrew was the one who killed Cedric, not Voldemort, but he couldn’t think of what else to say.
He knew that Cho was Cedric’s best friend and if there was anyone he should be sharing his grief with, it was her, but he just couldn’t figure out how, he couldn’t bridge that gap.
“You survived,” she said, “when you were just a baby.”
“Yeah, well,” Harry said, moving toward the door, “I don’t know how, and neither does anyone else really, so it’s nothing to be proud of.”
“Oh, don’t go!” Cho said, tears welling up in her eyes again, “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Harry felt horrible in a new way. He’d been so focused on his own grief he’d hardly spared a thought for anyone else’s. Cedric was his, that’s certain, but he wasn’t just his. Missing Cedric didn’t belong to Harry.
“I know it must be horrible for you,” she said, “me mentioning Cedric, when you saw him die and with everything else, I suppose you just want to forget about it.”
For a time, he had. But now he wanted every single memory he could get. He hoarded them like treasure, the good, the bad, the painful, the euphoric. It was all Cedric.
“You’re a really good teacher, you know,” Cho said, apparently trying to cheer Harry up and maybe distract herself, “I’ve never been able to stun anything before.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice sounding awkward even to himself.
They stared at each other for a long moment and Harry wanted nothing more than to run and hide but, at the same time, he’d also lost all ability to move his feet.
“Mistletoe,” Cho said quietly, pointing to the ceiling over his head.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
“Yeah,” he said, trying to think of anything he could do or say to get the fuck out of this room, “it’s probably full of nargles, though,” is what he came up with. He wasn’t sure whether he was going to hex or hug Luna when he saw her next, but he was leaning toward hex.
The next thing he knew Cho was kissing him and he was kissing her back and then between one breath and the next he was out of the room and running full tilt toward Gryffindor Tower.
Hermione and Ron were in the best seats by the fire, nearly everybody else had gone to bed.
“What kept you?” Ron asked as Harry approached.
Harry didn’t answer, he was in a state of shock and felt about four seconds away from a complete mental breakdown. Half of him wanted to tell his friends and the other half wanted to take the secret with him to his grave. For some reason, he could hear Cedric’s laughter at the back of his mind and that certainly wasn’t helping.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione asked, setting aside the parchment she’d been writing on.
Harry gave a halfhearted shrug.
“What’s up?” Ron asked, moving to get a clearer view of Harry’s face, “what’s happened?”
Harry thought that was maybe an easier question to answer than whether or not he was alright, but he still couldn’t form the words.
“Is it Cho?” Hermione asked, “did she corner you after the meeting?”
Harry just nodded and Ron tried to cover his laughter with a cough.
“So, er, what did she want?” he asked in a mock-casual tone.
“She,” Harry began, before coughing, clearing his throat and trying again, “she, er -”
“Did you kiss?” Hermione asked, all business.
Ron sat up so fast his ink well went flying all over the rug. Disregarding the mess entirely, he just stared at Harry, “well?” he demanded.
Harry looked from Ron’s expression of curiosity mixed with amusement to Hermione’s slight frown and nodded.
“Well, how was it?” Ron asked.
Harry thought about that for a moment. He could’ve said any number of things; horrific, depressing, an insult to the memory of my recently deceased boyfriend, but what he landed on was, “wet.”
Harry sat back and stared into the distance as he listened to Hermione say something about Ron being “the most insensitive wart” she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting before she went on to deftly explain why both Harry and Cho were emotional disasters to which Ron deftly replied, “one person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.”
“Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have,” Hermione replied before she picked up her quill again.
“She was the one who started it,” Harry said, feeling like he needed to give them that bit of information.
Hermione looked at him with pity in her eyes and Ron shrugged before trying to clean up his ink spill.
Harry sat and stared into the fire for another minute before he stood with a sigh and muttered a quiet goodnight and headed up the stairs.
He fumbled through his trunk for some pajamas and was about to collapse face first into his bed when he heard Neville’s soft voice say, “Haz?”
And that was all it took for Harry to lose it.
He collapsed into Neville’s bed and waited until he heard the sounds of the curtains closing and Neville’s voice muttering a silencing charm before he broke down entirely, sobbing into Neville’s pillow and trying his best to listen to the soothing words his friend was whispering.
Finally, after what must’ve been an hour, Harry felt his breath begin to even out and he mustered up enough energy to say, “can I stay here?”
Neville simply said, “of course,” and pulled his duvet up to Harry’s shoulders before settling in next to him. They were getting a little big to share a bed, this had been much easier when they were little 3rd years who’d just declared themselves godbrothers, who spent their nights talking in hushed tones about the parents they’d never actually gotten to have and held hands through nightmares. But that night Harry slept better than he had in months. His soul felt settled as he rested next to this person his magic recognized as a brother. It was the first real measure of comfort he’d felt since the graveyard, so the lack of space was the least of his concerns.
* * *
Thursday, 21 December 1995
Harry shot awake and felt something warm dripping into his right eye and down his neck. This was the first night he’d slept in his own bed since the night Cho had kissed him and apparently that was an awful idea. That had been the most vivid nightmare he’d had since … that wasn’t a nightmare.
He tried to scramble out of his bed and got tangled in the sheets, crashing into the floor and waking up everyone else in the dorm.
Someone got McGonagall and she rushed them through the school to Dumbledore’s office. Harry knew the warmth he felt on his face was blood and couldn’t imagine how deranged he looked, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He relayed the information to Dumbledore and watched as the headmaster, instructed a few portraits to check the Ministry and St. Mungo’s before he turned to a third portrait and instructed a man name Phinneas to let his grandson know that they’d be coming. The man who Harry now realized was a Black looked directly at Harry in concern before his impassive mask slid back over his face and he nodded to Dumbledore before disappearing from his frame.
Dumbledore turned an old teapot into a portkey and instructed them all to hold on. Harry was rather apprehensive about portkeys, for rather obvious reasons, but followed instructions. He chanced a look at Dumbledore just before they spun away and felt anger rush through his body.
He’d become rather familiar with his own anger over the past few months and what he was feeling just then was not him.
* * *
Tuesday, 16 June 1996
It was just a stunner.
It wasn’t even that green light he’d become so intimately familiar with between the memories the dementors brought and the graveyard and every nightmare he’d had since, it was just a stunner.
Sirius was gone, through that godforsaken veil never to be seen again.
Harry heard himself scream and felt arms wrap around his torso and knew that he was well and truly broken.
Something had been crushed when his parents died but he didn’t know what it was like to live without that particular cloud. Then he’d watched Cedric die and he thought that was the moment he’d been broken but he was wrong.
Watching his godfather, the person who was meant to raise him, the man who had broken out of Azkaban to protect him, the person who had fought through the effects of 12 years with dementors to try and be there for him fall through the veil was Harry’s undoing.
It didn’t matter in that moment that Sirius’ last words had been nice one, James, Harry would be James for him any day so long as he was still here.
He recognized the voice telling him that Sirius was gone. Remus. Half of Harry’s brain told him to turn around and wrap Remus into the strongest hug he could muster. Harry wasn’t the only one who’d loved him, Remus had too, in more ways than one. And Harry knew better than most what it felt like to watch the man you love die when there’s nothing you could do to stop it.
But the other half of his brain was telling him to kill Bellatrix with his bare hands and that was the half that won out.
Harry broke out of Remus’ grip and ran into the atrium and utter chaos followed.
He found himself trapped in Dumbledore’s office and wanted nothing more than to leave but he couldn’t. His magic lashed out and destroyed everything in its path, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
And then Dumbledore showed up and showed him the prophecy and he knew right away that this wasn’t just about him.
At the first possible chance, he pulled Neville aside and told him everything and that, more than Cedric’s death, more than Voldemort arriving at Godric’s Hallow, felt like the beginning of the end.
* * *
Saturday, 10 May 1997
Gryffindor won the quidditch cup and the next thing Harry knew he was kissing Ginny.
Something felt off, but he was happy, and Ginny was familiar, and this was how things were supposed to be, so he let it go.
* * *
Wednesday, 2 July 1997
They’d just buried Dumbledore, and all Harry could think about was how he was never going to be returning to Hogwarts. He needed to keep his friends safe. People kept dying and he couldn’t seem to stop it. He needed to find those damn Horcruxes and destroy them so he could either destroy Voldemort or die trying. He’d been on a collision course with death ever since he watched the life leave Cedric’s eyes.
He found Ginny and told her they needed to break up because he wanted to keep her safe but they both knew that wasn’t the real reason.
* * *
Friday, 1 August 1997
Harry felt at peace at the Burrow but there was a constant voice at the back of his mind telling him he needed to leave to keep these people safe. He knew Ron and Hermione were dead set on joining him, but he still thought that maybe, just maybe, he could escape without them, and he wouldn’t have to drag them into the wild goose chase that Dumbledore had left him with.
One good thing about being here, though, was that Ginny had easily fallen back into place as Harry’s friend. She was kind and intelligent and always steady and Harry loved her with his entire heart, even if it wasn’t the way many people thought he should.
Scrimgeour came and read them Dumbledore’s will and left them with the world’s most confusing belongings but all it told Harry was that Dumbledore had expected him to drag Ron and Hermione into this insanity. Great.
Then Kingsley’s patronus appeared and Harry was whisked away.
* * *
Thursday, 26 March 1998
Harry watched as Pettigrew’s metal hand turned on him. He watched as he struggled to breathe and as the last light of life left those beady little eyes and he felt like something bigger had happened. It wasn’t just Pettigrew dying. It wasn’t just the man who’d orchestrated his parents deaths, who’d sent the curse that killed Cedric, leaving the world. It was something greater. It felt like Pettigrew’s death had settled a balance, but Harry had no time to examine that because Hermione was screaming, and they needed to get the fuck out of here.
* * *
Saturday, 2 May 1998
Cedric watched as Harry closed his eyes and turned a cracked stone over in his hand, he felt something pulling at his core like it had back in the graveyard when his shade spilled out of Voldemort’s wand but before he could follow it, the familiar face of Death stepped in front of him and said, “not yet.”
Cedric remembered the day he’d died. He remembered Death saying that one day Harry would call, and Cedric would answer and this sure felt like Harry calling so he had no clue why he was being prevented from answering but then he saw the shades of James and Lily Potter standing alongside Sirius Black and Remus Lupin and understood. This wasn’t his place. He nodded at Death and took a step back; he could wait for his love to join him.