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It was official: the war was over.
All the Horcruxes had been destroyed, and Lord Voldemort was dead.
His body lay on the ground like his own victims, pale and motionless, resembling an empty shell.
The last Death Eaters were fleeing, and as the sounds of battle finally ceased, there were those who wept with joy and those who wept their dead loved ones.
The true calmness, however, came after.
After the chaos had calmed and Peeves's song of joy rang out.
After the crowd stopped trying to speak to or even touch the boy-who-lived...again.
After the liberation of the innocents and the capture of the guilty.
After Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to speak with the portrait of Dumbledore, slipping through the crowd.
After the trio hid the Elder Wand for the last time, now the eternal companion of the greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen.
After Harry released the Resurrection Stone and kept the cloak to himself.
After the fulfillment and thus the end of his prophecy, which confirmed him, for the last time, as the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord. And he had done so.
Only after the world began to breathe again at a slower pace did calmness slowly enter and settle into their lives.
Yet the storm for Harry was not over yet.
His heart, battered by events, was unable to carry on his relationship with Ginny, who gracefully accepted his desire and let him go after one last kiss on his forehead.
And he left.
He left Ron and Hermione to their love and walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which now didn’t seem so threatening, in search of what he hadn’t possessed for years: tranquility.
He had spent too long following fate, and now that it had finally been fulfilled, he felt empty.
He felt as if he were stuck in a dream, as if he were somehow trapped between life and death, just as he had been at the moment when Voldemort's Avada Kedavra had struck him.
Yet, at the same time, he felt more alive than ever, held together by both victory and pain.
He fell to his knees on the grass and rubble, and finally screamed with all the breath he had in his throat, as warm tears ran down his cheeks and soaked into the ground.
As he screamed and cried, he thought of all those who had died to ensure he was there that day, writing the final word.
But where was his ending?
Where was his "they lived happily ever after"?
Where was the relief that hovered in the air but eluded his grasp, like a cursed golden snitch?
Then, however, he too quieted, and when he had calmed down, he wiped his swollen eyes and pulled himself up, preparing to leave.
But it was then that he heard a loud "Crack" and once again his world turned upside down.
"Harry?" an uncertain voice asked.
He froze.
He knew that voice.
Damn it, he had heard that voice in his nightmares, almost always accompanied by green light and a haunted bundle.
That voice that still whispered to him at night "Wands out, d'you reckon?" and then fell to the ground, eyes wide open to the sky, its sardonic smile stifled forever.
"Harry?" the voice repeated, a bit closer. "Is it you?"
No.
It couldn't be.
He was dead. Was he dreaming, or was he dead too, this time for real?
Fighting against his own instincts that screamed at him to run, to escape and never look back, he took a deep breath.
And he turned around.
The face of Cedric Diggory met his gaze with an empty smile and eyes marked by an almost ancient weariness.
"How...what...no...you are..." he stammered, feeling the ground slip away beneath his feet.
"Dead?" said the boy, who was almost towering over him. He chuckled. "Not quite."
"But how..." he tried again, but the ground was dangerously close. So close that Cedric had to grab him to prevent him from tumbling over.
Harry looked at him in shock. His touch, that he knew too well, was real. Too real for him not to be truly there.
The Hufflepuff smiled at him.
"After Peter Pettigrew hit me, I didn't die as you think. I mean, partly yes... I suppose it’s complicated to understand as it is to explain. It was the power of an ancient magic, a force we don't really understand, but it allowed me to come back from death. But not completely; I wasn't really me; I was... a diminished version. I was like a shadow wandering on the border between life and death."
"But... where have you been?" he asked, unable to follow his words.
"My father" Cedric explained, a mix of sadness and gratitude in his gaze "when the portal to the afterlife opened and brought me back, I thought he would have a stroke. When he calmed down and realized I wasn't just a cold body anymore, he did everything he could to protect what remained of me. He staged my funeral, showed the world I was dead. He kept my existence a secret to allow me to heal, to recover completely”.
“I...I don’t understand” Harry admitted, scratching the scar that instinctively he rubbed but was not really hurting.
“Neither do I" the other laughed, shaking his head “I mean, when I woke up there, I wasn’t really myself. I was still trapped, more on the other side than this one. I kept feeling death whispering seductively in my ear, and the temptation to let go into its embrace again was strong, but... I could still feel the rest. I felt and saw everything happening in the magical world, and above all, I felt you. I tried so many times to speak to you, to reach you in your sleep, but every time you sensed my presence, you screamed and woke up".
“I...” Harry closed his eyes, cradling his head in his hands “I've dreamed of you so many times... I dreamed of your death so often that... and instead..."
“I somehow felt that I could truly come back” he gently interrupted “I’m sorry; I just wanted you to understand, but when I realized it was only causing you pain, I stopped trying. For a long time, my father paid wizards for their discretion and to try to understand what was happening to me, but each of them failed". He ran a hand through his hair and sighed “but today something happened. I was watching the battle from that kind of limbo, and when you killed you-know-who, the connection broke. I woke up in bed and immediately felt this time it was different. I was really there. I was back”.
Harry felt a knot form in his throat “and so, while the whole world mourned your death, while I mourned you...you were… you were somewhere here while your father tried to hide it?”
Cedric nodded, his expression turning serious “I saw my father's pain, his despair. He would never have been able to accept losing me again".
“And now?” Harry asked, his heart racing. “Does he know you’re back?”
“Yes, but before he could stop me, something dragged me here, forcing me to disapparate”.
He sighed again and smiled at him, this time with all the warmth possible “I want to face the reality of what happened. I want to reconnect with my friends, with my family. And, above all, I want to understand what there is in the magic that saved me, that draws me toward you".
The words echoed in Harry's mind, swirling and leaving him breathless.
“I don’t know what to say...” Harry whispered, his thoughts tangled. “It’s like a dream. And everything seems so impossible".
“I know, believe me” Cedric chuckled "but it’s real. I am real”. And saying this, he took Harry's hand and placed it on his chest, where he felt his heart beating steadily.
His own, on the other hand, felt like it was about to burst.
And when it seemed to him that he could bear no more, he fainted.
A torrent of memories overwhelmed him. And just as the hands of the inferi had dragged him down into the depths of the lake in the past, so now they did the memories, pulling him deeper and deeper back in time, until he found himself suddenly lying on the ground in complete darkness.
Suddenly, one of the infirmary beds he had visited so often appeared, with his own younger self lying on it. Only, it wasn’t quite him.
I mean, it was, but he looked a few years younger.
“Diggory caught the Snitch. After you fell. He didn’t realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to suspend the game. He wanted us to replay. But they won fairly... even Wood admitted it” came George Weasley’s voice in the dark, while the younger version of himself seemed to listen to that same voice.
He remembered that moment. It had happened during his third year, when the Dementors had invaded the Quidditch pitch, causing him to faint and granting the victory to Hufflepuff.
The bed faded away, and Cedric appeared, also a few years younger, smiling at a younger Harry, who had a brand-new broomstick leaning against the long table in the Great Hall: “Congratulations, Potter, great buy. This is a worthy replacement for the Nimbus 2000".
The scene changed again, shifting to Cedric, who extended a hand to help him get up, looking more handsome than ever as they headed toward the final of the Quidditch World Cup.
It dissolved once more, focusing on Harry, still younger, who was glancing sideways at Cedric as he walked through the corridors.
“Cedric Diggory!” announced the booming voice of Albus Dumbledore as he appeared, extracting the name from the Goblet of Fire, and then he saw himself watching the young man walk away, captivated by his bravado and a bit jealous.
In another scene, he found the two of them briefly discussing the dragons they would face during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
Then they suddenly appeared again, engaged in conversation while a stream of students passed by, looking at them curiously.
“Hey, I’m sorry for how things went. I know you didn’t choose to enter, despite what everyone says, I really mean it. It’s not fair that you have to deal with all this” he saw Cedric place a hand on his shoulder, and he tensed up.
Then the scene transformed into him and Cedric under the trees, sitting and talking.
“So, ahem, have you found anyone to go to the ball with yet?” his voice asked, a bit shaky, as he plucked at some blades of grass.
“Yeah, I... I already asked a girl”.
“Oh, sure” he hurried to say.
As he searched for another blade of grass to pluck, his hand brushed against Cedric's, and he took it in his, forcing Harry to look at him.
“I can’t wait to see you all dressed up, Harry” he laughed, and Harry returned the amusement, before retracting his trembling hand.
Before the scene changed, the wind tousled Cedric’s soft hair, and he resisted the impulse to reach out and touch it.
The darkness returned, quickly transforming into a study room where every now and then they exchanged glances, and whenever one of them locked eyes with the other, they would awkwardly divert their attention to their books.
Then it flickered again to when Cedric had talked to him about the prefects’ bathroom tub.
“Thank you for the help, really" his voice said to Cedric from a secluded corner of the castle when the scene changed.
“I owed you a favor, now we’re square" the other replied with a sly grin.
“You didn’t have to do it" Harry responded, giving him a light nudge.
“Are you nervous?” Cedric’s voice asked this time from the library.
It was definitely late, as only he could be heard.
“Yeah, pretty much” he admitted.
“It’s the last task; however it goes, it will be over".
He saw his younger self nodding with false conviction.
“Promise me one thing" Cedric said again, as the surroundings around them changed into a semi-familiar room in the castle, where they were sitting on the floor against a wardrobe.
“What?” Harry asked, one arm around the boy who was now scratching his hand.
“Promise me that when the tournament is over, we’ll stop sneaking around” he looked at him with all the seriousness in the world.
“What about Cho?” Harry asked, shifting slightly to get a better look at him “she’s in love with you, right?”
“Maybe” the other admitted with a sad smile, “but it doesn’t make any difference. I like you”.
“What will others think?” Harry asked anxiously.
“Does it matter?”
Their figures dissolved and reformed just in time to appear in a frightening maze, just steps away from the Portkey, a gleaming cup.
“Come on, take the cup".
“No” Cedric said, turning his back on that glory that Hufflepuff hadn’t known for centuries, moving closer to Harry “you go”.
He shifted his gaze from the cup to his own version with the broken leg, injured from the battle against the spider.
He tried to scream at his younger self to listen to Cedric and to go get that damn cup on his own, but no sound came out.
Instead, he heard himself say: “both of us” as he stared at Cedric's stubborn face “we’ll take it at the same time; we’ll end up equal".
“Are you sure?” the other asked, astonished.
“Yeah, we’ve helped each other get out of this, right? We’ve made it this far together. Let’s just take it. Together”.
Cedric first seemed unable to believe his ears, but then, as Harry's present self was still trying to shout no, to tell him not to do it, he said “Alright” with a beaming expression before supporting the younger Harry as he firmly guided him to the pedestal with the cup.
“On three” Harry said.
Cedric smiled at him, and as the countdown finished, they both reached out their hands toward the cup, kissed, grabbed each other’s other hand, and seized the trophy.
“Nooooooooooo!” Harry shouted as the two disappeared, but it was of no use.
The darkness merged into that of the evening, and just like the countless times he had seen it in his nightmares, he found himself in the cemetery.
“Wands out, d'you reckon?” Cedric said tensely.
“Someone's coming” Harry said, seeing Wormtail approach, even though he still didn’t know it was him, carrying a bundle in his arms.
As his present self cried out desperately, he saw the two of them look at each other, saw himself crumble under the pain of his scar, heard Voldemort's voice say “Kill the other one”, and then felt the Avada Kedavra strike Cedric, watching him fall.
He screamed and screamed, plummeting back into the darkness, the eyes of the dead boy beside him burned into his mind.
“Harry!” exclaimed Cedric’s voice, very close, and he shot his eyes open.
He was back at the edge of the forest, lying on the ground with a concerned Cedric holding his head in his lap.
He sat up quickly and grabbed him, holding him tightly.
“Don’t ever leave me again, please” he said, barely holding back new tears.
“No, never" Cedric confirmed, welcoming him into his arms and returning the embrace.
They stayed like that for quite some time, then Harry lifted his gaze to meet Cedric's beautiful, vibrant eyes, full of life.
He kissed him, their lips meeting softly, almost afraid to test their bond.
Then, as if they had found the final confirmation, they moved with more passion, deepening the kiss until it left them breathless.
“I know why magic brought you back to life” Harry said when they finally pulled away to catch their breath.
Cedric tilted his head "really?”
He nodded “It’s the same magic that allowed me not to die the night my mother sacrificed herself to protect me".
“And what is it?” Cedric asked, brushing Harry’s hair from his forehead.
“Love" Harry whispered to him. “Love brought you back to me" and he kissed him again.
And again.
He felt the other laugh against his lips, and he smiled too, continuing to kiss him, blissful in his presence.
"Promise me one think" said Cedric at one point.
"What?"
"We're going out there. And we're going together".
As they walked hand in hand toward the castle and the celebrations, Harry finally felt it.
The calmness.
The happiness.
And he sensed that finally, once and for all, he could write his ending and that his “they lived happily ever after” had come.
He looked at Cedric, who looked back at him, squeezing his hand a little tighter as they continued to walk toward their future together.
Harry smiled.
Something told him that his scar would never hurt him again.