His head is killing him.
Where is he?
What has happened?
Why are his ears ringing?
He can hear voices ebbing in and out of his field of hearing.
His eyelids feel so heavy.
He can’t summon the energy to open them.
What time is it?
He has no idea if it is night or day, or whether he is awake or asleep.
Clearly not asleep, if he can hear voices, he reasons.
Why does he feel like he has done ten rounds with a hippogriff?
Why is his mouth so dry?
He tries to lick his lips, but that is even worse: the sensation of his tongue scraping over tiny particles of glass.
Glass, why does that ring a bell somehow?
A flashback of thousands of orbs exploding, as he is running away.
Running as fast as he can.
The realisation that his legs are not really trained for running.
Quidditch muscles are not used to this.
His legs ache more than they should.
He must have done more than just running.
He recalls the sound of gushing water, a fountain perhaps?
Maniacal laughter is echoing somewhere far away.
He is afraid to open his eyes.
His chest hurts as if a much larger creature has tried to invade his small frame.
Invaded it and then burst out of it with great force.
Are those footsteps?
Voices again.
Did someone say, ‘You wonderful boy’?
That doesn’t sound right.
He has never been called wonderful in his entire life.
He has been called many things, but never that.
Is that the same voice still talking?
‘Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.’
What an odd thing to say.
What’s love got to do with anything.
His head is really pounding now.
Please stop that noise.
Can someone turn off the radio?
He reaches out a hand to turn down the volume, but before he can reach it, the channel changes.
A female voice chants ‘Love is a battlefield.’
That would certainly explain the aches and pains.
He feels as if he has been in mortal combat, but it still doesn’t explain the love bit.
He attempts to turn off the music again, but the radio has disappeared and a man in leather pants has entered his vision. He appears to be singing.
‘Love hurts, love scars
Love wounds and marks’.
The voice is not unpleasant and he feels himself sink into blissful nothingness.
When next he regains consciousness, he is surrounded by lots of faces, moving erratically. They are all dressed up strangely, but vaguely familiar, the hair and makeup unlike anything usually worn at school. Was that Ginny? And Cho? With Hermione and someone he doesn’t recognise? As he focuses he realises that they are performing a dance routine.
‘I would do anything for love’, Ginny sings more loudly than his head can handle, ‘but I won't do that.’
Confused he feels his eyelids closing again, but not before he sees Ron laughing his head off. And is that Draco in the background, turning his habitual smirk into a hearty laugh?
Before he can ponder this question any further, all goes black again.
Somewhere in his mind he hears a familiar voice saying, ‘Oh, to be young and feel love's keen sting.’
What's love got to do with it?
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken , he thinks, not knowing where that thought came from.
He tries to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel so heavy. As if they are being pulled down by some unseen force.
Can someone please stop the ringing in his head, or is it singing?
An array of colourful bright lights seems to be exploding behind his eye lids. He tries to obscure the lights with his arm, but it is no use, the flashing colours appear to be inside his head.
‘Love kills, drills you through your heart;
Love kills, scars you from the start,’ a bare chested man is singing.
He can't make out who it is, but for some reason he is reminded again of a Slytherin.
All around him he sees couples making out. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a lip-locked Ginny and Dean and feels his stomach twist. Cho and Cedric kissing doesn’t give him any pleasure either. He watches Hermione and Ron embracing. That one he should have seen coming, but he is unprepared to witness their tongues battle for dominance. His eyes widen when he spots what he thinks is Luna and a unicorn at the edge of the forest. At the sight of Snape tenderly stroking Lockhart’s cheek, he feels bile rising up in his throat and then the image of Gilderoy changes to Lupin. They are now at the lake and before he knows it, the image of Lupin kissing Snape is replaced with Snape and the Giant Squid, tentacles moving in all directions. He feels as if he is on some bad acid trip. Did the twins slip him one of their untested products? It wouldn't be the first time.
As he is trying to make sense of the, now underwater, images in his mind, they change into an even more disturbing sight of Voldemort entangled with his pet snake in ways he wished he could unsee. Thankfully the scene changes to a dog and a wolf, frolicking under the night sky, and he feels his mind settle, as he watches their antics. Then Remus floats back into view, holding Sirius in his arms. But something about the way he is holding Sirius feels off. The scene exudes love, but in a profoundly sad way.
Sirius, some thought in the back of his mind is trying to bubble up to the surface.
He is groaning and tries to stretch out an arm to reach his Godfather.
‘Albus, I think he is waking up’, he hears an all too familiar voice saying, somewhere off to his left side.
‘Best administer another sleeping draught, Poppy, he has been through a lot. Let him sleep for a while longer.’
Then darkness descends once more.
When he next wakes up, his headache has gone.
He carefully opens one eye and recognises that he is in the hospital wing.
Figures, he thinks, this is where he seems to spend the last weeks of every term.
Then he sees that most of the other beds are occupied as well, or at least that is what it looks like, as he is not wearing his glasses.
From the shapes he thinks he detects Luna, the long, white blonde hair a real give-away; Neville and a figure he assumes must be Ron judging by the tufts of red hair poking out from beneath the large bandage around his head. Hermione is in the bed next to him and on the far side he thinks he can see Ginny’s long red manes peeking out from under the sheets.
What are they all doing here?
For a fleeting second he thinks this is some inter-house sleepover, but then all memories come flooding back to him: the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Mysteries, SIRIUS!
He sits up with a start and grabs his glasses to see a group of concerned adults moving closer. Molly Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore and Lupin.
Before he can say anything, Remus quickly closes the distance between them and hugs him so tight that the scream of anguish that is about to escape his mouth is muffled by the man’s hug. Their bodies convulse in unison, as they silently cry for the man they have lost.
Godfather, soulmate, friend, dog, shining star, they all blend into one.
Love hurts, echoes in his mind as he continues to cry, wishing it was all a dream.