Chapter Text
The door of the empty boy’s dormitory quietly opened and a tired, bruised and beaten young man entered. At eighteen and having just gone through what he had gone through over the last seven years, he was a young man and no longer a kid. He closed the door behind him and stood in the room and looked around at the five empty beds, the cold stove in the center of the room and the empty owl perch next to one of the beds. He walked over to the perch and touched it lightly, knowing that its owner would never use it again. He sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the silence around him. He slowly and gingerly laid on the bed, every muscle and joint sore and in pain.
He was too tired to take off his dirty and ripped clothes or to even clean himself. He just wanted to sleep, but when he closed his eyes all he could see was all the trials and horrors he had experienced in his seventeen years of life. He saw the now still faces of Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Lavender Brown, and so many others who had died because of Voldemort. His eyes sprang open, and he was gasping for air.
“No,” he thought, “They died because I was here, and they wanted to help me. Because I couldn't find all the horcruxes fast enough.”
He scrunched his eyes together at the images flashing before him. He tried to think of other people or happier events, but those now lifeless faces kept coming back, and even more terrible memories were surfacing. Hedwig's dead body falling after taking the killing curse meant for him. Quirrell leaping at him in front of the Mirror of Erised trying to kill him. The agonizing pain of the basilisk fang stabbing into his arm and the burning pain of its venom as it coursed through his veins. Cedric's lifeless eyes looking at him in the graveyard. Dobby dying in his arms speaking his name in his last breaths. Dumbledore's body falling from the tower.
His mind raced with the events of the last seven years, images and memories speeding through his mind. His chest felt tight, his heart was racing, and he couldn’t breathe. He leaped out of bed, his body now full of adrenaline. He twisted around the room as if looking for the source of his visions, but there was only him in that quiet room. He clasped his hands to the sides of his head. There were too many voices and images in his head, and he moaned out loud with the pain of them flooding into his mind.
Even more images and memories inundated his mind…
Hogwarts destroyed…
Hogsmeade damaged…
Sirius falling through the veil…
Hermione’s agonizing screams from Bellatrix’s torture…
Snape bleeding to death in front of him…
“Too much,” he hissed almost as if he was in pain, “This is just too much.”
He fell to his knees and started sobbing in sorrow and pain. He had done this. This was all his fault. What would they think of him? Would they see joy and relief at Voldemort’s defeat? No, they would only look at him and see the pain he wrought. With an immense effort he brought himself under control and wiped the tears from his face as he looked out the window to the school grounds below.
“Never again,” he whispered to himself, and he now knew what he had to do. He straightened up and said in a solemn voice as he made himself a promise, “I can't be here anymore. Never again.”
Hermione Granger entered the girl’s prefect dormitory room bone tired. The last nine months, no… the last seven years were finally catching up with her. She shed her clothes, half caring on the floor. She had worn the same set of clothes for the last two days and they were beyond salvaging. She entered the bathroom and washed her face and hands as best as she could. This simple act was all the energy she had left. A bath and a complete scrub down would be a luxury for later. She dried her face with a soft towel and looked into the cracked mirror. The face looking back was almost unrecognizable. She knew that the bags under her eyes, the cut on her cheek and the stress showing upon it would eventually fade, but not for a long while.
She climbed into her old bed and immediately relished the clean softness. After spending nine months sleeping on a thin mattress on a cot in a tent, this bed seemed almost like Heaven to her. It took almost all her remaining effort to pull the cool silky covers over her and she let out a huge sigh of exhaustion. She lay listening to the silence around her save for the soft ticking of the clock on the mantle. She was slowly drifting to sleep when she thought she heard a muffled groan. She slowly opened her eyes, almost unwillingly, and tried to listen for the sound again.
It was silent again, but her curiosity galvanized her into getting out of bed and pulling her clothes on. She exited the room and stood upon the landing between the girl’s and boy’s dormitories. Then she heard a whooshing sound coming from the boy’s dormitory. The one where Harry had entered to sleep. She suddenly felt a wave of panic and dread. Her adrenaline, now coursing through her veins, brought her immediately awake and alert. She rushed down the flight of stairs and stopped in front of the closed door. She leaned her ear against the closed door and didn't hear any sounds
She knocked on the door, “Harry?”
Silence.
She knocked again, louder, “Harry?!”
Silence.
“Hermione? What's wrong?”
Hermione turned to see Ron coming up the steps with Ginny, Neville, and Luna.
“It's Harry,” she said with her voice starting to rise in panic and concern, “I thought I heard something, but he’s not answering.”
The others gave her a worried look, and she returned to pound hard on the door, “Harry?! Are you there?! Are you okay?!”
Silence.
Hermione twisted the knob and found it was locked. Her blood went cold. She pulled out her wand and took a step back.
“Alohamora!” she shouted. The door lock clicked softly, and she and the others rushed into the room. She looked around in utter disbelief, “Harry?” she whispered.
Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen.