I do not own any of J.K Rowling's inventions, I simply dabble in her world.
Harry crawled up the stairs towards the four-poster bed he so greatly desired, even with the past events swirling in his consciousness, all that filled his mind was rest.
The adrenaline of the battle had worn off and exhaustion had taken its place, every fibre in his body ached with the physical trials Harry had undergone this past year and those fibres screamed for sleep.
He reached the bed, took of his glasses and collapsed face first onto the soft, comforting bed that had been his home for 6 years. Sleep swarmed over him, covered him in its sweet embrace and brought beautiful….rest.
Harry awoke with a familiar sense of foreboding hanging over him like the curtains that hung between the posts of his bed. Thoughts of Voldermort and his uncertain future flashed through his mind and a weight settled on his heart, but as quickly as it had settled it lifted as memories of the previous night and memories of Voldermort's body entered his mind.
A smile crept onto his face for the first time in ages, the muscles around his lips felt stiff and the smile on his face felt foreign and unfamiliar. But this smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, because more thoughts entered his mind, thoughts which had been suppressed due to the intensity of the battle. But now they were threatening to overtake Harry, to consume him and smother him in guilt.
The thoughts of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley, and the countless other nameless faceless people who fought beside Harry and died there. Te thoughts of their broken and lifeless bodies crept into his mind and burned this image onto his eyes. Harry knew what he had to do, he understood grief and regret from his numerous encounters with death. He must accept and acknowledge the passing of these people but not feel regret for the fact, he must reminisce and feel happiness that they fought and died for the Voldermort-free world that Harry had awoken in.
He knew from past experience that to allow guilt to overcome him and that to blame himself for these deaths would lead to a cesspool of guilt and self-hatred to rise up and
swallow Harry whole. He would drown in his own insecurities.
He lay there motionless, happily reminiscing over bliss moments shared with the deceased that he knew personally, he also knew that to wallow in shame and guilt would brake the hearts of those still alive and fighting, he could not do that to them.
Reviews Appreciated