Chapter Two: Maybe Someday You'll Have Woken Up
If we really want to love, we must learn how to forgive.
- Mother Theresa
No one could understand how the Death Eaters got on the Hogwart's grounds. Nobody could say how everything ended how it had ended. He just knew everything was over; nothing was the same. Cho Chang, a girl he had liked since he was thirteen years old, was now lying on a bed in the Hospital Wing, dead. Harry still wore his wet clothing and his hair was still wet from the rain, but it didn't matter because he didn't felt the need to change. The only thing in the common room that lightened the darkness was the strong deep orange fire in the fireplace, the only thing that created a warm tingle on his face.
Just minutes before he had been out there in the Forbidden Forrest on his knees and trying to understand that this girl was dead. Dead because of him, just because of him. Sometimes, he wondered how he could go on with his life. After Sirius had died, almost one year ago, Harry thought he could never go on. Never feel anything again. But he fooled himself into living again, fooled himself into a relationship that was over. Now he no longer knew if he had ever loved Cho. For weeks, Harry knew the relationship was over again, but still he wasn't able to just let her go. It had felt too good to know that she was there, to know he was just a normal teenager with a girlfriend.
But Harry had never been an ordinary wizard, never had an ordinary life. He gulped as he thought about how everything had turned out. It was all a mess, even his feelings. He didn't know if he wanted to cry or just sit there and hope that all of this had been just a bad dream. How he wished his friends didn't need to go through this hell. If it were just him he could live with it, but it was not so. When the term began, Voldemort had already struck against the wizarding world. Fudge, the minister of magic, had been killed and with him a long list of other Ministry workers who Harry didn't know. It had been luck that Mr. Weasley wasn't as work that day.
Soon, too soon for Harry's taste, the muggle world was involved too. Because of him, Hermione was now an orphan. Her parents had been killed first of all muggle victims. He knew that she knew why and this knowledge had caused a rift. Though Harry wanted to be there, he wasn't, because he couldn't bear it. Nothing he had lived through could compare to her loss and he knew it. He who had never known his parents did not know what it meant to lose your parents when you'd known and loved them all your life. Slowly his eyes started to burn, and he felt tears running down his face. With all his might he tried to stop it. More than once he brushed those tears away from his face, his eyes. Harry wasn't in the position to cry, never had been.
How dare he cry as if it were his pain when others died just so he could live? First Cedric, who was far too young, had died then Sirius, and now Cho. Still, Harry had been foolish enough to think he could go on like that. He could have saved Cho if he just hadn't started their relationship all over again. Once in his life he had been selfish in his attempt to become a normal teenager, to forget just for one moment who he was. But now he had woken up from that dream to learn he could never be an ordinary guy, not as long Voldemort was out there. His thoughts went back to the power which he should have against Voldemort. He still couldn't even protect the one he loved so dearly. How could he ever have any extraordinary power to win in the end? Harry's had no answer for that.
A bright silvery like light illuminated the dark common room for few seconds. For few seconds, he could see his own shadow and the portraits here so clearly it was frightening. The room fell back into darkness only disturbed by an angry growl of thunder. Harry knew he wouldn't get any sleep, not now. Though Madam Pomfrey had given him a bottle with a potion for dreamless sleep but he never had taken it. It was still untouched. He didn't want to rest. Ron was already in their dormitory and was probably already deep asleep. But Harry needed to think about it. He just couldn't go to bed now. Not after what had happened. In his ears he could still hear the Ron's yelling and if Harry dared to close his eyes, he saw her again. The way she knelt on the muddy ground, pale face brightened by another flash.
It was a picture he never wanted to see again. It was so broken, so destroyed, and it was just like he felt. After Hermione had been knocked unconscious every moment had been like a strange dream. Harry could remember that he and Ron brought both girls back to Hogwarts, but the only thing that remained clear in his mind was the thunderstorm and how cold the rain had felt. Soon Harry had left the ward, left it all behind him, because he couldn't bear it to sit there and wait until Hermione woke up again. Because of her he was alive, because of her, he still felt pain. Death could have been painless. He shook his head. He needed to live, even if it was just because of a prophecy that needed to be fulfilled.
With this thought, suddenly, new life started to burn in him. He needed to do something, anything. Without much thought he went to the 6th year boy's dormitory. As he entered, he heard loud snoring and the faint thunder. Silently, Harry illuminated his wand and went straight to his four-poster bed. He fell to his knees and reached under his bed. Another flash rose across the dark sky exactly at that moment and he felt a silky material between his fingers, the invisibility cloak.
Minutes later, under the cloak, Harry walked with the Marauder's Map in one hand and his wand in the other towards the Library. It had become a usual ritual to him to look in the old library for books where he could find the answer. The most powerful spells and anything else that came close to what he needed. But in all these months Harry hadn't found anything. The most powerful curse was the Killing Curse. Faintly, Harry wondered if this was the power. He knew he could never beat Voldemort with his own weapons. Just as Harry was about to reach the Restricted Section he stilled his movement. A loud cry, a bitter sob, was echoing through the castle. He was startled by this and held his breath.
Maybe it was just a ghost or Peeves. Harry closed his eyes tightly so that he could hear better, but it was silent again. He only heard the thunder. Then, suddenly, the cries grew louder and he could recognise the voice. His breath caught in his throat as he realized who it was. Through the castle, through the corridors, echoed Hermione's frightened voice, her sobs. Nothing else today had made him realise what had happened, but this sound, this cry woke him up. How could he have forgotten it what it must mean to Hermione? What role she had played in all this. If the grief about her parents couldn't destroy her, the guilt about Cho's death might do it.
"Cho…" He whispered as he turned around to go back to the Gryffindor Tower. Harry didn't belong in the Library. At least not now, not this night.