Chapter Text
“That wand’s more trouble than it’s worth,” said Harry.”And quite honestly,” he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.” -Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Harry woke up, sun streaming through the windows of Gryffindor Tower. The dormitory was understandably trashed, but most of the beds were fairly intact despite the missing chunks of wall, and as far as Harry was concerned, that was all that mattered. He reached for his glasses that laid on a barely-standing nightstand, and the room was brought into focus. Now that the war’s over, he thought, maybe I can do something about my eyesight finally. With all that had happened in his life since coming to Hogwarts when he was eleven, he hadn’t had any time to worry about something like fixing his vision, especially not when the Dursleys would refuse to get him a new pair of glasses. I wonder if an overpowered reparo to the eye would do the trick...
Standing up, he thought about what to do. The war had ended with the first rays of the morning sun, and judging by his slight headache from grogginess and the barely tinted yellow rays of light, it was likely around lunchtime. He straightened out his clothes, casting a charm to iron them for him. It wasn’t perfect, but it would suffice for now.
The common room looked different, now. It hadn’t changed physically, per se, but the energy was different. Before the war, the common room had been a place of happiness, friendship, and comfort. Today, it seemed like the room somehow knew that it had lost many people that it had once sheltered. Fred, the four Marauders, Colin Creevey, Dumbledore, and countless others. The place felt downcast; the fire that always burned brightly in the fireplaces extinguished, not to ignore the missing bits of wall and blackened tapestries. Harry hoped they could fix it while the castle would inevitably be reconstructed that summer.
Deciding that he had delayed long enough, Harry threw on the invisibility cloak and ran down the hallways until he made it to the Great Hall. He scanned the room for Ron and Hermione, purposely ignoring the places where corpses had previously lay not many hours ago. He felt very grateful for the people helping sort out who was who, and deal with them accordingly.
Ron and Hermione had been among the people helping round up bodies and getting those who needed treatment to the hospital. Now that it was later in the day, most of that had been taken care of. In all honesty, Harry had felt a bit like an outsider watching the activity. A strange sort of detachment overtook him as he stared out at the broken castle and the remaining few who were still helping clean up what they could. He briefly regretted his decision to come back down, but the need to talk to his friends without the pressure of imminent death was too great to resist.
The amount of people in the Great Hall had diminished greatly, and some students scattered around were working on fixing walls, pillars, and other destroyed parts of the great castle. Harry walked over to his friends and proceeded to yank the cloak off of him, shocking his friends.
“Harry! Could you not be bothered to walk up to us like a normal person?!”
He smiled apologetically at Hermione. “Sorry.”
Turning to Ron, he said “I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”
Ron laughed a bit at that. “Where did you go? Everyone was looking for you. You’re lucky to have us Harry, when I say everyone, I mean everyone.”
Harry grimaced. “Sorry, mate. I was in Gryffindor Tower, trying to get some rest. Can you blame me for being exhausted?”
Ron grumbled. “I suppose not.”
Harry patted him on the shoulder, laughing. “What’s going on right now? I see you two are being very helpful. You can take a break too, you know. Merlin knows you deserve just as much as me.”
Hermione answered this time. “We just felt, well, a bit responsible for a lot of the destruction and loss. What’s a bit of extra effort among all of this? It makes a difference, and it’s not like we haven’t been working nonstop for the past half a year, anyway.”
Harry nodded. “Well, it’s good that you are all up and about. I nearly fell asleep just walking up the stairs.”
They all chuckled. “Anyway, sorry to go, but I have to talk to McGonagall soon about this summer. I have no clue what to do now that this is, well, over.”
“Good luck with that mate.” Smiling, Harry brought the two in for a hug. The fact that the war had ended was a fact their brains had yet to fully absorb.
Upon touching Harry, Hermione and Ron flinched a little. Noticing, Harry said “Did something happen?”
Hermione spoke up, a look of apprehension on her face. “Harry, you feel really cold. Do you need a proper sweater, or a warming charm?”
Harry frowned, looking at his jacket, t-shirt, and jeans, not noticing that anything was wrong. “I don’t feel cold. If anything, I’m sweaty from running down here so fast.”
Ron chimed in this time. “Mate, you’re, like, really cold. Did you get hit with some spell or something?”
“I don’t think so. I feel perfectly fine.”
That was somewhat a lie, obviously, he had just died after all, but he didn’t want to press the matter further, especially not right now. In the corner of his eye, he saw some of the others whispering and occasionally glancing at him. Before he could be bothered by them, he waved goodbye to his friends before retossing on the cloak and hiking it out of the Great Hall.
He found McGonagall in the headmaster’s office. She was very clearly curious about how he had played dead, convincing even Voldemort, but hadn’t asked about it.
“I’m just glad you three are safe, and that the war is over for good this time.” she had said. Harry gave her a hug before leaving, noticing the look of confusion on McGonagall’s face but didn’t say anything, fearing the response and the unsettling feeling growing in his stomach.
By later that afternoon, Harry found himself back in his old dormitory. He walked over to the bathroom, deciding it would be good to actually wash off the days of grime, blood, and Merlin knows what else coating his skin and clothes. He was suddenly grateful, possibly for the first time in his life, for some of Dudley’s old clothes that he had left in the wardrobe at the end of sixth year. Grabbing them and walking over to the bathroom, he started upon noticing his reflection.
Standing rimrod still for a second, Harry observed his reflection in the mirror that he knew should have worked fine. To his knowledge, it wasn’t enchanted with anything. But either way, staring back at him was not his usual reflection.
The person staring back at him was not like that of a normal appearance.
Staring back at him was a nearly transparent version of Harry Potter, one he could just about see right through to the back wall of the bathroom.
Not only that, but the him in the mirror looked, well, dead. His skin was paler, and his eyes more sunken.
Okay, he thought. I would say weirder things have happened to me but I think this just about takes the cake. Turning away from the mirror, he got into the shower and tried his best to rid himself of the still growing unsettling feeling in his stomach. Harry wondered if he would ever have at least a semi-normal life.
Seems he was never destined for that.