Beyond Fear

Harry was sitting in the kitchen, holding a cold cup of tea in his hands. Other than studying for his N.E.W.T.s, he had nothing else to do, so he sat in silence, waiting for the day to pass.

Despite the stillness of his body, his thoughts were spinning uncontrollably. In the past few days, he had been reliving every painful moment of his life and blaming himself for every little thing that went wrong. Without Luna’s bright and serene spirit, everything inside him had darkened, as if he had gone back to the time when he couldn’t even get out of bed.

Harry missed the colorful walls of the Rookery, sitting silently with Luna while they studied, watching movies while running his hands through her hair, sleeping with her pressed against his body, and placing his hand on her belly to feel their babies move.

How could he miss her, their home, so much when he doubted whether he was there only out of obligation?

He asked himself that question repeatedly during the days and sleepless nights.

How broken does a person have to be not to recognize their own feelings?  
He was still lost in his thoughts when the clock struck eleven, and he heard the sound of the Floo Network activating in the living room.

“Harry?” he heard Hermione’s voice call. He had known her long enough to recognize the worry in her tone.

He took a deep breath before answering.

“In the kitchen.”

Hermione appeared in the doorway first, closely followed by Ron. Both of them looked concerned. Hermione was holding a bundle that could only be food from Molly.

“Are you okay?” she asked, getting straight to the point, her eyes scanning Harry’s face for any clue.

“Yes,” he lied, though his tired expression and the dark circles under his eyes said otherwise.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Ron commented. “We got your letter. What happened?”

Harry averted his gaze and gestured for them to sit. Hermione handed him the bundle but seemed more focused on what Harry was about to say.

“I... I’m not living with Luna anymore,” he began hesitantly, feeling like he was reopening a wound just by saying it aloud.

“That was in the letter. But you didn’t explain why,” Hermione said, urging him to get to the point.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated? You’re about to have kids with her. Why would you just leave?” Ron asked, confused.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

“I thought I was doing the right thing by staying there. Being... a present father from the beginning. But after a conversation at Christmas, with Ginny, I realized that maybe I was only with Luna out of obligation.” He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he said the last words.

The silence that followed was heavy. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks again, this time more worried.

“What exactly did Ginny say?” Hermione asked, leaning forward slightly.

Harry hesitated before answering.

“She said I was with Luna just because of the babies. That... it was all out of obligation.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, thoughtful.

“And do you believe that?”

“I don’t know!” Harry exclaimed, frustration washing over him again. “I... I don’t know what I feel. There’s so much guilt, so many obligations. I don’t want to be the kind of father who abandons his children, but I also don’t want to make Luna suffer because of something I’m unsure about.”

“Right, you can question your feelings, but do you think leaving Luna alone will help?” Ron asked, his tone a mix of confusion and irritation. Harry could tell he was torn between supporting him and worrying about Luna.

“She’s the one who told me to leave,” Harry replied, his voice lower.

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Luna asked you to?”

“Yes.” Harry looked down at his hands, shame evident on his face. “She overheard the conversation with Ginny and realized I hesitated... she said she was freeing me from any responsibility I thought I had toward her. She also said there was nothing left for me at her house.”

Hermione let out a deep sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Poor Luna.”

Harry felt even worse. The three of them sat in silence for a while.

“Harry, this... this is a cycle you’re repeating,” Hermione said softly.

“What do you mean?” He looked up at her, puzzled.

“You’ve spent so much time carrying the weight of saving the world, of being the ‘Chosen One,’ that now you think you’re responsible for everything. For Luna’s happiness, for the babies’ well-being, even for her feelings.”

Ron nodded.

“Hermione’s right. You’ve always been a bit... obsessed with guilt.”

Harry frowned defensively.

“It’s not just guilt. It’s about doing what’s right.”

Hermione leaned closer, her eyes serious.

“Doing what’s right for whom, Harry? For you? For Luna? Or for the idea you have of what a father should be? What a family should look like?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

“You need help figuring this out,” Hermione continued, her voice gentler now. “Have you thought about talking to a mind healer?”

He shook his head, exasperated.

“I don’t need to talk to a stranger, Hermione.”

“It’s not weakness to seek help, Harry. You’re in a complicated moment, full of conflicting emotions and pressures. A healer can help you understand what you truly feel, instead of making decisions based on guilt or obligation,” she insisted.

Ron, who had been relatively quiet until then, finally chimed in.

“Look, mate, I can see it’s not easy. But if anyone knows what it’s like to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, it’s you. Maybe it’s time to let someone help lighten that load.”

“And besides doing it for yourself, do it for your kids. They deserve a happy father,” Hermione added.

Harry looked at the two of them, feeling cornered but also knowing they were right.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice quieter.

Hermione gave a slight smile, relieved to have at least planted the idea.

“That’s great, Harry.”

Ron patted Harry on the shoulder, a silent gesture of support.

“And in the meantime, we’re here. If you need anything, just call.” 

“Thank you,” Harry murmured, feeling a pang of gratitude mixed with his internal confusion.

When Hermione and Ron finally left, Harry remained sitting in the kitchen, staring at the bundle of food. He knew he needed to face what he was feeling, but the fear of discovering something he didn’t want to admit held him back. Still, for the first time, he considered the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

He also thought of Luna and their children; they deserved more than a confused man, full of shadows and fears. Luna had said he’d never promised her anything, but often, words aren’t needed to express something. He saw that she was in a vulnerable phase, and yet, he had crossed the boundaries of friendship.

He had loved every moment of what they shared, and he missed it with every breath. He could also recognize to himself that there was more depth to it than just sexual desire, but with the way things had unfolded, she must have thought he only wanted sex with her.

Harry ran a hand over his face, then made his decision.

He walked to the fireplace and used the Floo Network directly to St. Mungo’s.

Two days later, Harry sat in the leather armchair in a small, cozy office. The room had walls painted in soft shades of green, decorated with abstract paintings that didn’t allow interpretation but offered a strange calm. There was a magical fireplace in the corner, with flames dancing gently, and a table with a pitcher of water and a pair of glasses.

The mental healer, an older wizard named Heitor Grimsby, sat across from Harry. He had a serene demeanor, light brown eyes hidden behind round glasses that made him look slightly outdated. He wore a simple gray robe and maintained an open, non-judgmental expression.

“So, Harry. Thank you for coming. Starting is always the hardest part, but you’re already here. That’s a good start,” he began, his voice calm and soothing.

Harry nodded, though his body remained tense. He rubbed his hands on his knees, trying to hold back the nervousness.

“I… I don’t really know where to start.”

“You don’t need to know. We’ll go at your own pace.” Heitor smiled. “Why don’t you start by telling me what brought you here today?”

Harry agreed but remained silent, trying to find the right words. He had never been good at talking about his feelings, and now, facing a stranger, the task seemed even harder.

He took a deep breath and tried to start with the basics.

“I… I left Luna’s house.”

The healer nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“She’s pregnant. With my children. Twins.”

Heitor’s eyes softened, but he said nothing, allowing Harry to continue.

“And I thought I was doing the right thing, you know? Staying with her, raising the babies together. But… then I started to doubt.”

“Doubt about what?”

Harry ran his hand through his hair, messing it up further.

“Everything. My feelings, my motivation. Whether I’m with her because I like her or just because I feel responsible for starting a family with her. An obligation.”

Heitor waited, giving him space to keep going.

“She deserves someone who truly loves her, you know? Not someone who’s with her because they feel guilty or… responsible.” Harry sighed, saddened by the thought of her with someone else.

The healer leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Harry with genuine interest.

“It seems like you’ve been carrying a heavy burden trying to protect Luna, even from yourself.” His eyes were sharp when he asked his next question. “Have you always felt this responsibility?”

Harry let out a short, bitter laugh.

“Always. Since I was a child.”

“Can you tell me more about that?”

Harry looked at the flames in the fireplace for a moment, as if trying to decide how much he was willing to share.

“My parents died when I was a baby. They were murdered by Voldemort. I survived, but I was raised by my aunt and uncle…” He shuddered at the memories. “They hated me. Made sure to remind me of that every day. I was just a child, but I was treated worse than a house-elf.”

Heitor remained silent, allowing Harry to continue at his own pace.

“When I finally went to Hogwarts, it was like… like I found a home. But at the same time, it was always about what I had to do. Facing death over and over again to save the day. Defeating Voldemort. Being the Chosen One. Saving the entire world.”

He let out a long sigh and leaned back in the armchair, the weight of those words evident.

“And I did. I survived all of that. But sometimes it feels like I’m still carrying all that weight and guilt, even though no one expects me to save the world anymore.” His voice was low, as if admitting that out loud for the first time. And it was.

Heitor leaned back, a contemplative expression on his face.

“You’ve spent most of your life feeling like you had to live up to expectations. Prove your worth, be the hero, carry the responsibility for others.”

Harry nodded, but didn’t speak.

“It’s natural that, after all of this, you’d have difficulty disconnecting from that pattern. It can be scary to think of being something other than what you were taught to be.”

“Yeah…” Harry hesitated, the realization he had just come to not being very uplifting. “I don’t know who I am beyond that,” he confessed.

“Maybe that’s something we can explore together. But I want you to know that you don’t need to have all the answers right now. And that everything you feel — confusion, guilt, even fear — is valid. You’re not a bad person for not having all the answers. After all, you’re only 18 and have spent your whole life acting only as others expected you to.”

Harry rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling slowly. Those words, in some way, however minimal, made him feel somewhat embraced.

“And what about Luna? I feel… I admire her, and she’s always been one of my best friends.” Harry still needed a solution regarding this.

“Admiration is a powerful feeling. But you said you also feel responsibility and guilt. Responsibility, guilt, and admiration can coexist.”

Harry sat in silence for a moment, reflecting.

“I just don’t want to hurt her… anymore.” He already knew he had done that.

“It seems like you’re willing to make great sacrifices to protect others from pain, even if it means hurting yourself,” Heitor pointed out seriously.

Harry laughed without humor.

“That seems to be my specialty.”

Heitor offered a calm smile.

“You’ve expressed that you’ve always felt the need to carry the weight of everything. But I want you to think about this: What if the world isn’t asking you to fix everything? What if, instead, you could allow others to share that weight?”

Harry swallowed hard, the idea feeling strange and even frightening.

“I never considered that possibility.”

“It’s a process. And you’ve already started by coming here today. We can work on it, little by little.”

Harry looked at the flames again, feeling a slight relief as he realized he didn’t have to solve everything immediately. He was still confused, still overwhelmed, but something in Heitor’s calmness made him believe that maybe there was a way forward.

When he left the office, the weight on his shoulders was still there, but it seemed just a little bit lighter.