searching
Harry Potter was the Boy Who Lived (Twice now, but the new nickname didn’t quite have the same ring to it).
But now that Voldemort was gone, he felt lost. The grief was overwhelming, the castle damaged to the point that it didn’t even feel like Hogwarts anymore.
Maybe thats why he felt lost. His home, the place he fought for, fought in, felt so broken. And so did he.
He didn’t have a place amongst the crying faces, the bruised elbows, and hard workers putting up the castle brick by brick.
Harry was meant to fight Voldemort and die trying. And he did, but now? Harry Potter didn’t have a plan for life. It was fighting first, his life second.
That’s why he spent the days wandering the halls, drifting from room to room. Person to person. Faces blurred, conversations were distant, and if he ever offered his services, he was left with a condescending “You’ve done enough, rest now Harry.”
“Harry?”
A voice stirred him out of his stupor, so he turned from his plate, full from food and left untouched like usual, and made eye contact with Hermione.
“Hm?” He asked, pushing up his glasses that had slipped down his nose.
“Dean was talking about how the new Library was being built starting tomorrow. I thought I might go join.” She smiled at him, her excitement clear.
Harry nodded at this, trying his best to express a similar smile to her. “Sounds fun. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”
“You know, I heard that Rickshaw Golkmind even donated his pristine collection,” another voice chimed in, but Harry didn’t bother looking to see who it was.
Instead, he stood, excusing himself quietly and briskly walking from the table.
“Oi, Harry!” He heard Ron exclaim from behind him. “Where are you going?”
Without turning around, Harry shouted, “I’m full mate!”
“But he didn’t even-”
Harry didn’t hear the rest, he was gone from the Great Hall, and took a random corner, deciding that wandering was the best escape from his mind.
*
The Gryffindor common room had somehow survived the Battle, and stood tall and warm, which was evident by the mass of students huddled around the fireplace, but Harry sat behind, not wanting to be condensed quite so close.
“How about a swim tomorrow? In the lake?”
“That sounds fantastic Zach, we all could use a relaxing day off.”
“Let’s make it a plan.”
The voices felt mixed to him, and he tried to disconcert the different voices, but when he found he couldn’t, Harry went to find Ron.
Cuddled in a corner with Hermione, Harry approached the two, and sat down at their feet.
He cleared his voice, the two of them making eye contact with him.
“I was thinking,” he started, bringing his knees into his chest, “Ron I know you were busy with preparations for Fred’s memorial. Did you want some help with that? I know I should have offered sooner but-”
“No mate,” Ron cut him off, “Its all good. Hermione’s been helping me with all that.”
He turned and smiled at her, and Harry felt left out of their little circle, a pit growing in his stomach.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Okay.”
And with that, Harry stood, and briskly left the common room, seeking the endless hallways that had become a really unhealthy distractor.
The moonlight glazed nicely against the Hogwarts floor, illuminating just enough so that Harry could see the path in front of him. It was when the normally glazed path stopped at a large set of wooden doors did Harry stop.
He knew where he was. He had been avoiding the Hospital Wing for a while, for his own selfish reasons he supposed, but maybe this was where he was meant to be tonight.
So with a shaky hand, he reached for the shiny round doornob, and carefully opened it, stepping through the threshold.
Once his eyes adjusted to the soft candlelight that glowed the room, Harry glanced around, taking note of the many closed curtains of beds, and the strong smell of blood replenishing potions.
“Mr. Potter,” a soft voice rang to his side.
He turned, to be greeted by a tired looking Madam Pomfrey.
“I didn’t think you’d be here for quite some time.”
“Well here I am,” Harry said, mentally cursing himself for his stupidity.
“Right,” she whispered back to him. “Well if you’re going to be here, better make yourself busy. Grab some gloves from over there and here’s a chart, we’ll need to get started on the night medicines you hear me?”
Harry simply nodded at her words, as one did not argue with Madam Pomfrey rushing over to the small cabinet in the corner grabbing what he needed before approaching the first bed.
Gently, he pulled back the curtains to reveal a younger girl, not much older than 16 he would say, who had a wrap around her head. She was peacefully sleeping, and he really didn’t want to disturb her.
A hand appeared on his shoulder, before he heard Popmfreys voice in his ear, “Go on now. This is a timely manner. Just give her the bottle on the side of her table.”
He didn’t turn back at her, instead, Harry reached down and gently shook the girl, watching her eyelids flutter open.
“Um, sorry to disturb you. You just need to take this.” He reached over to the small bedside table and grabbed the tiny vial, with an even tinier label that read Blood Replenisher in smooth cursive font.
With a groan, the girl, Emma, according to the slip of paper Popmfrey had hastily gave him, sat up and took the vial, downing it in one gulp.
Once she had swallowed however, a soft look graced her features, and she let out a small thanks, before slumping back into her pillows and curling up again.
With a shaking hand, Harry returned the curtains back to surround the bed, and promptly moved on to the next person.
Each patient he woke up and helped seemed to close the hole that had been sitting in his chest, every sigh of relief, every muttered thanks, even a small squeeze to the hand holding a potion or creme relieved the rock that had been weighing him down.
Once he got to the last bed in the row, he felt lightheaded, in a good way, so much that a gentle smile graced his lips for the first time in a while. Despite this, when he opened the final curtain and glanced down at the chart, the smile immediately dropped, for lying before him was none other than Draco Malfoy.
Harry gasped audibly, getting the attention of Popmfrey who immediately rushed over, alerted.
It seemed, in fact, that he gasped so loud that it stirred the blonde, who, rubbing his eyes tiredly, sat up and looked at Harry.
But instead of a loud “Potter!” or a curse being sent his way, Malfoy simply muttered,
“Hello. Are you the new nurse?”
Harry's eyes widened, and he took a step back.
“Malfoy,” he all but growled out, his hand reflexively reaching inside his pocket, wrapping it around the wand tucked inside.
“Sorry, do I know you?” Malfoy asked back, his head cocking to the side.
What was going on!? What the hell was Malfoy doing here? And why hasn’t the fucker done something yet?
“Mr. Potter,” Pomfrey interrupted his thoughts, standing in between Harry and the bed encasing Malfoy. “Mr. Malfoy here has suffered significant memory loss. He is no threat to you, or anyone here at the moment. So I would appreciate it if you took your hand off of your wand, and helped me give Draco his nightly potion.”
His mind all but screeched to a stop. Memory loss?
“So, he has no clue who I am?” Harry tentatively asked.
“No Mr. Potter, now, come assist me. It has been a long day and I would like to go to bed.”
Slowly, he creeped forward to stand next to her, and she handed him a vial, similar to the ones he had just handed out.
“Here,” he reached the bottle towards Malfoy hesitantly, and quickly withdrew when Malfoy grabbed it from him.
“Thanks,” Malfoy said, giving Harry a small smile.
And when Pomfrey shut the curtains behind them, and ordered Harry to go back to his current dorm and that she expected him back there at 8 sharp the next morning, did he finally let out a breath.