Author's Note: I see no need to put a disclaimer when I obviously don't own Harry Potter. Takes place toward the end of Deathly Hallows. Ginny and Harry never got together in Half Blood Prince. Ginny and Harry spent a lot of time together as friends, but they never kissed, never admitted their feelings for each other. But this will still be a Ginny/Harry fic.Lupin, Tonks, Fred and a lot of other people are alive, because I want them to be. I'm not entirely sure where this story is going, its just an idea that I had…
The door to the Great Hall flung open. Voldemort sauntered into the room as if he owned the place, as if this was all a game, looking so pleased with himself that a feeling of dread settled over everyone and an immediate silence fell. The smirk on his white, lipless mouth told us all that something awful had happened. Only something disastrous could get Lord Voldemort that ecstatic. A line of Death Eaters followed suit; barging into our school, our home. The enemy was inside of our one safe haven and no one knew what to do but stand there and stare. Voldemort's red eyes darted around the room at all of the fear-stricken faces and the ugly mouth curled into a nasty grin.
"Harry Potter is dead." The words dropped like a bombshell. Nobody seemed to believe it, or wanted to believe it. Harry Potter, who had faced Voldemort so many times before and lived to tell the tale, dead? The brave but reckless boy we all knew to be a mischievous but lovable rule-breaker? Dead? No. Impossible. Harry couldn't be dead. Not my Harry.
"You liar!" someone dared to scream.
"The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. But obviously you all need further proof. So I give you his body so you can all see with your own eyes." Voldemort's eyes glared at the open doorway. "Hagrid! Come in here! Come in and show them!" The throng of Death Eaters parted so Hagrid could make his way through into the Great Hall. In his arms was…no, no, it couldn't be…
Between the future and the past tense
Lies the present and the distance
So you think we're never coming back
Scoring points for passion and persistence
"Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"
The first thing that comes to my mind is that this is a sick nightmare and I'll wake up any moment. The world felt like it stopped spinning. Everything slowed down and my heart stood still in my chest. No…this couldn't be real life. I just kept repeating that mantra in my head over and over for the next moment or so: this isn't real. I'm having a nightmare.
The truth hit me like a punch to the gut: that unmoving pale figure Hagrid was lowering onto the floor was Harry. And he was dead. The horrible realization sunk into my stomach like led. At first I was too stunned, too numb to feel anything. Then I heard the uproar around me: Professor McGonagall's shriek of agony, the screams of horror from everyone else, Ron and Hermione's anguished shouts of, "HARRY! HARRY! NO!"
"Silence!" Voldemort cast a silencing spell over the Great Hall, the screams of grief, the sorrowful sobs all cut off into silence. I could see Hagrid's shoulders shaking as he was bent over on the floor weeping this moment I didn't care if the world hadn't literally stopped spinning. All that mattered was mine had. And my sun would never rise again. I was stuck in a perpetual nighttime. My knees crashed against the floor and pain shot up my legs but I barely noticed. This feeling was worse than the feeling you get from dementors. It was raw, unbearable pain.
Between the lines and the highway
Lies the danger and the safety
You never thought this was gonna last
I always knew you'd never take it back
"I give you proof that the Boy Who Lived was no more than a foolish boy who hid behind more powerful men and women!" Voldemort's voice boomed throughout the hall. "He was killed while trying to escape the grounds! While you all were laying down your lives for him, he was trying to save himself!"
"HE BEAT YOU!" Ron roared and soon everyone was screaming themselves hoarse at the Death Eaters and Voldemort who was clearly getting annoyed that nobody had bought his vicious lie.
I couldn't stop staring at Harry's limp body by Voldemort's feet, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, my fingers trembling, trying to steady my breath to no prevail…I had expected this. When Voldemort's voice rang throughout the castle, commanding Harry to surrender or have him kill everyone else, I knew that Harry would do something stupid and noble. But knowing doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't stop the shock from hitting you hard.
I always knew…
"Silence!" Voldemort cast another silencing spell over us all. He glanced down at Harry's body, considering it for a moment. He nudged his face with his foot and said with a sneer, "Such a handsome boy…"
"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" The scream tore from my throat and white hot rage surged through my body. I clenched my fist so hard I broke the skin of my palm. I was vaguely aware that warm blood trickled down from the half-moon shaped cuts in my palm to my trembling fingertips. "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!"
I know it seems like we're never coming back
I know it feels like we're never coming back
"Who is this?" Voldemort hisses dangerously as he meets my eyes.
I hear Mum whisper, "Ginny, no!" and feel the frightened stares of everyone else in the room on me. But I don't care. I don't care. He took Harry. He took Harry away from me and now he was touching his face with his disgusting foot and making remarks on how handsome he was. Voldemort didn't deserve to even look at Harry.
"Ginny." I snap.
"She's a Weasley, master, a blood traitor!" Bellatrix says with a wicked excitement in her voice.
You tried your best and you knew it wouldn't last
They were the words that she placed on her casket
"Ah, Ginny Weasley." His horrible red eyes stare into mine as if searching for something and it feels like they're reaching into me…digging around in my head…no! I knew this feeling! It felt like that awful day in the Chamber of Secrets when Tom Riddle invaded my soul. And now he was doing it again. Voldemort, Tom Riddle, was opening the doors inside my mind, entering my private thoughts. He pulled memories to the surface…using legillemency…
It was dark and we were confused. The long rows of shelves holding the dusty glass balls gave off an eerie glow that made me want to get out of there. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks, and even Luna, the always-calm Luna, looked a little worried. Neville was shaking beside me. But I didn't pay attention to them. I was watching Harry.
He paced across the spot where he said Sirius was supposed to be, clearly wondering why he wasn't there. His eyes darted around in a panic, his breath coming in frantic hitches. My heart wrenched when I looked at his worry-stricken face. We came all the way here to find his godfather, and now we couldn't find him…
I wanted more than anything for him to be calm again, to make his worry disappear but I knew that there was nothing I could do…
STOP!, I mentally screamed. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
But Voldemort continued to rummage through my mind, bringing both my worst and my most precious memories to the surface without my consent.
We had stayed after Quidditch practice to practice a little longer together, but that practice had somehow turned into a laughing-fest and a contest to see who could hit the Bludger at the Whomping Willow. The hours whiled away while we were out there. Time passed so quickly. It was hard to believe that up at the castle everyone was having dinner in the Great Hall and we were still out on the pitch.
"No, but really! Imagine Snape wearing a dress." I giggled and steered my broom toward Harry.
"I've seen it before, and I still have nightmares about it." He said nonchalantly, as casual as ever, squinting against the sun to look at me. I noticed that he looked cute when he did that, and mentally kicked myself for thinking it because I was with Dean.
"You did!" I shrieked with laughter. "You're joking!"
"It wasn't actually Snape. It was a boggart." He grinned. "You see, Neville was terrified of Snape a few years ago, and in Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts class one day –"
"Oh my god, you're serious!" I gripped the broom tightly so to not fall off.
"He was wearing Neville's grandmother's hat, too."
At this point I was clutching my side. I gasped out my words between bursts of laughter, "Did – Snape – ever find – out about it?"
"Eventually."
Between the sadness and the smile
Lies the flicker of the fire
STOP IT! GET OUT! I could feel Voldemort's essence sliding through my mind, slithering around my memories like a snake, coiling around my very being and squeezing tight.
"SIRIUS!" Harry was shouting. "SIRIUS!"
"He's gone, Harry. There's nothing you can do!" Lupin's voice cracked as he held Harry's arms, struggling to restrain him.
"SIRIUS!" Harry continued to scream at the veil.
"There's nothing you can do because he's d-"
"HE IS NOT DEAD!" Harry fought against Lupin's grip, thrashing in his arms.
My heart sunk inside my chest as if it were made of heavy led. A tight lump formed in my throat as I watched Lupin try to stop Harry from running straight into the veil. Someone gripped my arm, a member of the Order, I think, and tried to lead me away but I couldn't pry my eyes away from the heartbreaking scene unfolding in front of me…
You always said this never hurt you
I always said you were a liar
It was your fault, I thought to Voldemort, knowing he could hear me, knowing he was here in my mind with me. Everything is your fault.
Voldemort laughed; it was shrill and cold like shattering glass. Everyone simultaneously flinched at the sound, and wondered what he was laughing at. I knew he was laughing at my thoughts and everything he was finding in there. I blinked my eyes and more tears spilled down my face, blurring my vision. Harry was lying there, never to get up again. His face made him look younger than he already was. Seventeen, not even an adult, too young to die…
With the all the towers and the wires
There still lies a little silence
Voldemort seized my mind again and brought up another memory…
Luna and I, along with the rest of our class, stood huddled around the vat of Amortentia in the middle of the potions classroom.
Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and said, "Ah, well, yes, Amortentia is the most powerful and also most dangerous love potion in the world."
A few boys sniggered at the thought of a love potion being dangerous.
"Oh, yes, boys, it can be dangerous." Slughorn chuckled. "It causes the drinker to become obsessed with the person who gave them the potion, sometimes to the point where it gets violent and unstable. It can't create actual love, of course. Only obsession and infatuation.."
I wanted to laugh at the looks on everyone's faces, especially the girls': their eyes were drooping, they had big goofy smiles plastered on their faces as they inhaled the scent of the potion. Did they all think this potion smelled alluring? It had a distinct smell to it that I thought only I liked, but I guess other girls like the smell too. It had a distinct boyish smell that didn't really have a name and was hard to describe, but was sort of like soap, musk, sweat and grass…did all of the girls here find that appealing?
"Mmm," One of the other girls sighed. "It smells like chocolate frogs, butterbeer and parchment…"
"No, it doesn't!" Someone piped up. "It smells like peppermint and flowers."
"Amortentia smells like whatever appeals to the drinker, and often smells like whoever is the object of that person's affection. So if a woman is in love with a bartender, to them the potion would probably smell like Firewhiskey and alcohol." Slughorn explained.
.Everyone who expressed out loud what they thought the potion smelled like blushed scarlet, in fear that they had given away their secret crushes...
I swept through the corridors, glancing at my watch, wondering if I was going to make it to Defense Against the Dark Arts on time. If I was so much as twenty seconds late, Snape would have me in detention.
A pair of hands came over my eyes and a voice said, "Guess who?"
I swatted them away in annoyance.
"Sorry," Dean apologized hastily, eying me suspiciously. "I just wanted to surprise you. Uh, how was class?"
"Fine," I said briskly. Was he going to follow me all the way there?
"Want me to carry your books for you?" Dean asked.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
"No, thank you, Dean." I snapped. "I am perfectly competent of carrying my own books."
"Sorry," He apologized again.
"No, I'm sorry," I sighed at the hurt look on poor Dean's face. I shouldn't take out my anger at Snape on him. "I'm just so annoyed with Snape. I used to like Defense Against the Dark Arts until he became the teacher."
"Same here," He sighed. "I wish we had Lupin again. He was the best."
I nodded wholeheartedly. Lupin had been the best.
"At least Slughorn's pretty cool." Dean said. "He showed us Amortentia today."
"He showed it to us, too." I said. "It was…interesting. Especially how it smells like whatever appeals to the drinker."
"Mine smelled like you." He mumbled.
I looked over at him and saw that he was staring at his feet. I cracked a smile."And what do I smell like?"
"Like…floral and sweet…sort of. Its strange." He said. "What does yours smell like?"
"I'm not sure. Sort of like…soap, musk, and grass, and sweat…" I smiled sheepishly. "I think it means you."
"But I'm not sweaty, am I?" He grinned. "And I'm not sure if I smell like grass."
"I have to get off to class," I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hastily took off down the corridor…
"So you – really – saw Snape – in a dress?" I gasped between bouts of laughter.
"Snape wearing a dress is no laughing matter, Ginny." Harry pretend-scolded me. "I still have nightmare about it, honestly."
My broom spun around in a circle as I threw my head back and cackled.
"Really, it was traumatizing." He insisted.
"I bet Malfoy thought he looked dreamy…" I joked.
Harry bit back a smile.
Please smile!, I thought, oh please smile for me. You've been looking so pale lately and I know how much you hate Malfoy. I'm desperate to get you to genuinely smile.
"You're sick." He finally grinned and shook his head, making my heart stutter just a bit. But only because I was glad to see him happy, in a strictly friendly-way, not because I like him or anything Definitely not. I'm with Dean. I don't like Harry. Really, I don't.
"But really, I think Malfoy might admire Snape a little too much sometimes." I giggled.
"He admires Snape too much?" He raised his eyebrows. "Don't you think he admires his father a bit too much?"
At this point I was shaking with laughter. I wanted to say something back, something clever and witty, but I couldn't breathe from laughing, let alone speak. Okay, so maybe I liked him a little. Just a little…
Two hearts and one connection
One voice lacks emotion now
We dropped down on the grass, panting and tired, our broomsticks lying a few feet away. His eyes looked brighter today, and I wasn't sure if it was because of the bright, late-afternoon sun or because he was actually happy. I sometimes felt like I was lost in his eyes. Yes, Dean had nice eyes, too, they were chocolate brown and warm…but Harry's eyes were better than nice. They were fascinating. It was hard to decide if they were more gray or blue. They had a depth that Dean's eyes didn't…
Normally whenever I made a mental comparison between Dean and Harry or showed even the slightest crush-like feelings toward him, I would kick myself and tell myself to stop. I'd feel guilty for thinking things about a guy other than Dean, and I'd remind myself that I don't even like Harry that way anymore. But today was different. Dean was so far from my mind right then.
It was late in the afternoon. The sun was dropping behind the castle. Half of the pitch was in shadow; the sun would be setting soon. The lake glittered under the orange sky and it was gloriously warm. My skin felt hot to the touch and Harry was kneeling just a few feet away from me. His eyes had an excited glint to them; his dark hair sweaty and windswept from flying. The sun beat down on us and I remember that sudden, unexplainable desire to grab him and kiss him; just close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him. I stared at his lips and imagined what they would feel like.
Somewhere at the back of my mind, I remembered Dean. I yelled at myself: 'It would be wrong to kiss Harry! I'm with Dean! Harry doesn't even like me that way, anyway! And I don't like him. I haven't liked him for years. I'm just being silly!' But yelling at myself did no good. I wanted him so badly.
I always knew...
I had tried to deny my feelings for Harry, tried to act like I didn't feel a close bond with him that I never felt with other guys. I pushed my old crush on him to the back of my mind and said I didn't like him anymore, but that afternoon was one of the times when I knew, I just knew, that I still did. I knew he didn't see me that way. I knew tons of other girls liked him and he'd never see me as more than a friend, or more than a friend's sister, but still. I wanted him so bad. There had been a few months where I truly didn't harbor crush-like feelings for Harry. There were times when Dean was all I could think about and Harry was just that boy I liked when I was younger and sillier. There were also times where I sort of liked Harry, but denied it like my life depended on it. But now I couldn't take it anymore. The façade was over. I wanted him like I never wanted him before.
I used to idealize him. I used to see him as the hero who conquered the Dark Lord. I'd think, 'oh! How perfect he must be!' and I'd dream about him constantly, about how he must be able to take whatever's thrown at him and deal with it. Basilisks? No problem. Dementors? Piece of cake. I think that's why my crush on him stopped for a while: because it was so unrealistic and was based off some fairytale-idea I had of him that after a while I realized how stupid it was and I gave up on it.
But now that I was seeing him, truly seeing him, for who he really is, I couldn't deny how I felt. He wasn't a knight in shining armor. The things he deals with aren't easy for him. He was a real person with a reckless side and a tendency to cause mischief and break the rules. I liked that version of him far more than any stupid idea I had of him when I was eleven.
Dean and I have had many dates where we tried to make it them as romantic as possible: nice, classy restaurants in Hogsmeade, candles and flowers, all of the cliché things that come to mind when you think of romance. But sitting here in the grass with Harry, with the sun going down and my sides aching from laughing, both of us hot and tired from practice, I couldn't possibly think of anything more romantic than this.
I wanted to run my hands through his windblown hair, wrap my arms around his neck that was sweaty from the long afternoon of practice, to kiss him for a long while to make up for all of the wasted time where I've been denying my feelings for him or when I felt no feelings at all. I wanted to get lost in his eyes. His eyes mesmerized me sometimes. They were blue flecked with silver, like rain puddles reflecting the sky…
But I didn't kiss him because I knew he wouldn't want me to. It would ruin this perfect moment. I stayed where I was and tried to ignore the furious pounding of my heart.
Without thinking, I reached across the distance between us and touched a finger to his forehead. Breathing slowly and carefully, as if afraid to make a sound, I softly traced his scar with my fingertip, not knowing why I was doing it.
He cringed and slapped a hand to his head. I yanked my hand away.
"I'm sorry!" I said quickly, the heat rushing to my cheeks, feeling like a fool. I was mortified and angry at myself. Of course he wouldn't want people touching his scar. Why should he?
"It's not you." He sucked in a sharp breath that told me he was in pain. Physical pain.
"Is it…your scar?" I asked stupidly. Of course it was his scar. But why would his scar be causing him that much pain? "It hurts?"
"It hurts when he's mad." He said.
"He…?" A sick feeling was forming in my stomach and I was almost sure who he was talking about, but I wanted to hear him say it, to confirm my suspicions.
"Voldemort." He snapped, squeezing his eyes shut. I saw the muscles in his arms tense up and he clenched his teeth. I placed a hand on his shoulder uncertainly. And even though it was only a friendly-gesture, even though it was only my hand on his shoulder, my heart sped up a little from touching him.
"Want me to get someone? Madam Pomfrey…?" I asked, unsure of what to do.
"No." He shook his head. "There's nothing she can do. It will stop soon, anyway."
I hated it. I hated seeing him in pain like that and I was disturbed by the fact that he was so connected to Voldemort that his scar hurt when Voldemort was angry. I desperately racked my brain for something I could say to make it better for him but I knew there was nothing. And a sudden rush of hatred for Voldemort came over me. And even stronger, a sudden desire to protect Harry. I couldn't stand this. I wished I could do something, anything, to stop things like this from happening to him. I was ready to travel to the end of the world if it meant finding a spell that could help him.
He suddenly opened his eyes. They were bright and blazing. I felt him relax again, his muscles slackened, and I was suddenly awkwardly aware of my hand still on his shoulder. I pulled it away in embarrassment.
"Are you okay?" I kicked myself mentally for such a dumb question.
"I'm fine." He suddenly looked back-to-normal, like what just happened was just a minor-inconvenience and he was already over it.
"Does that happen often?" I asked.
He shrugged in reply.I was about to open my mouth to say something when I saw a grin break out on his face as his eyes were fixed on something behind me. I turned my head to see what it was.
"The Whomping Willow is attacking the Quaffle." He laughed.
The Quaffle, which had resorted to buzzing around on its own without us chasing it, had flown in the direction of the Whomping Willow. The monstrous tree was now smacking it around with its branches.
"We should make it the new Beater." Harry said. "It would be far better than the ones we have now."
Instead of flowers like words that never mattered
Close it off, forget about the sadness
GET OUT!, I yelled inside my head once more, finding myself unable to control my own thoughts…
Voldemort shouldn't be seeing these thoughts. They were mine. They were precious and private. I dropped to the floor, curled into a ball and cried out in pain. Voldemort's essence was still in my mind, curling around me, squeezing me, suffocating me…I felt like I was dying. My head was about to split open. I hoped I was dying. Then I could be with Harry again… The pain stopped abruptly.
I heard Voldemort cry out and when I opened my eyes, he was staggering backward as if he had been burned. His entire body went rigid, as if my thoughts had caused him physical harm. I didn't have time to wonder why, though, I was too busy feeling relieved that he had finally left my mind. I had felt his grip on it let go.
Everyone in the Great Hall seemed confused and scared, eyes darting from me to Voldemort, wondering what had happened.
"You all have one hour to treat your injured and get rid of your dead." Voldemort spat. With an ugly sneer he glanced down at Harry's body. "After the hour is up, you are all to meet me outside the castle and bow down to your new master. Any man, woman or child who resists will be killed, along with every member of their family. I hope you all follow my command; I do not wish to kill. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a waste."
Filthy liar, I thought savagely. You don't hope anything. You don't know what true, genuine hope feels like. And I don't believe that you don't wish to kill. I know you love killing. You love it. You loved it when you killed Harry.
He surveyed the room a final time before sweeping back out the door, the Death Eaters following. The doors to the Great Hall banged shut and there was a long shiver of silence. Now that Voldemort had gone, people were openly crying. Mum was sobbing into Dad's shoulder, Ron and Hermione were hugging each other, tears streaming down both of their faces. Hermione kept staring at Harry's body until Ron put his hand over her eyes and forced her to stop. At that point she too burst into heavy sobs. Professor McGonagall seemed to be choking on her own breath, her face wet with tears, as the other professors tried and failed to calm her down.
Without thinking, I crawled forward and threw myself on Harry's body. Someone – Fred, I think – grabbed my elbow and tried to pull me off of him saying, "Ginny, its alright, breathe –"
"NO IT'S NOT!" I screamed. "ITS NOT ALRIGHT!"
Lee Jordan, George and Dad came to back up Fred, but I pushed them all away and laid my head down on Harry's chest, sobbing so hard I couldn't hear what they were saying to me. It was over. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the sting of my tears. It was all over. Voldemort won. But I hardly cared if Voldemort won. That was the least of my worries. I was never going to see Harry smile ever again…the boy from all of those happy memories, that sarcastic troublemaker I remember having wanted to kiss so badly, was dead. He'd never make fun of Malfoy, break a rule, or laugh with me again.
"Ginny, take a deep breath…" Madam Pomfrey was suddenly there, standing over me. But her voice had cracked when she stole a glance at Harry's youthful face, and I knew she was thinking that it wasn't fair that he was only a teenager and he had been killed so mercilessly. It was only then that I realized I wasn't properly breathing. Each breath came in shaky gasps and jagged hitches. Hyperventilating. I still paid no mind to anyone else and buried my face in Harry's chest, wondering why he left me here without him. I could see no future without Harry in it. Living life without his sarcastic remarks, his fascinating eyes, stories of all of he and Hermione and Ron's adventures…
Poor Ron, the thought staked me hard in the chest. Poor Hermione…poor everyone…this world is cruel.
Grief is never ending. I was trapped inside it. It felt like there was something horrible sitting inside my chest that I'd never be able to get out. It was a dark room without a window or a door. No light, no way out. And its all Harry's fault. HE WAS SO STUPID!, I screamed inside my mind. IT WAS A TRAP! HE DIED FOR – WHAT? ALL OF OUR LIVES? We'd soon be losing our lives anyway. Voldemort will kill us all if we don't obey him, and none of us are going to obey him. I was spiraling into a black hole I could never escape from.Its all your fault, Harry. If you hadn't been so brave, so heroic…I never got to tell you I love you.
He always said she should have tried crying
Blaming him, as she was lying down
I was no longer crying. Minutes had passed. I wasn't sure how many. My face was sticky and stiff with dried tears and my mouth felt cottony. I wanted to cry, to make it feel like the sadness inside me was leaking out, but I couldn't. I was out of tears, it seemed.
"Come on, Ginny," Percy said softly.
"…have to move his body…" Dad muttered sorrowfully to someone with a cracked and hoarse voice.
"No," I mumbled.
…I thought I heard something…could it be…did I just hear what I think I heard?
"Ginny, there's nothing you can do. He's d –"
"He's not dead. He can't be." I whispered.
"Ginny, please, I'm sorry but he is d –" Fred's voice cracked.
"HE'S NOT DEAD!" I sat up and screamed.
Everyone in the Great Hall was watching. A large group had gathered around. I didn't care. I stared right at Fred's tear-tracked face and yelled, "HE CAN'T BE!"
"…she's in shock…" Madam Pomfrey whispered.
But a small glimmer of hope had lit up in my chest, so tiny that I knew I was probably setting myself up for disappointment. But that tiny spark of hope was all I had, so I held onto it and acted on it. I stopped breathing and pressed my ear back against Harry's chest.
I heard it again.
Yes! Please, god, please, I thought desperately as that tiny shred of hope grew bigger. Let that be a heartbeat I hear. Please let that be a heartbeat.
I stilled my breath and listened carefully. I could hear it; the steady rhythm pounding against his ribcage. My heart raced and I sat up and stared at his face with a wild excitement building inside of me. He was alive. Harry was alive.
"Ginny…" someone began morosely.
"HE'S NOT DEAD!" I yelled.
"Ginny, please –" George started.
"He's not dead because he has a heartbeat!" I mumbled, not caring if any of them actually heard me because all that mattered to me was that he was alive, and laid my head against his chest again to assure myself that it was real, I was not imagining it, that I really had heard a heartbeat. And to my great relief and joy, there it was again, his heartbeat.
George knelt beside me and with downcast, watery eyes, held Harry's wrist, expecting to feel nothing. His eyes remained that way for a moment, dejected and full of tears, as he impatiently waited for a pulse he thought he would not feel. But I saw it. I saw the exact moment he knew that Harry was alive, I saw the realization hit him before he could even speak. His eyes lit up. His brow furrowed. His lips moved but no sound came out at first. The emotions passed over his face and I wanted to scream with joy: he's alive! You see? He's alive!
"He's alive." George whispered faintly, unable to speak. Then he got his voice back and with excited eyes he looked at Mum and shouted, "He has a pulse! MUM, HE'S ALIVE, HE HAS A PULSE!"
Professor McGonagall gave a little yelp, Mum's lower lip trembled as if she wanted to believe it, but didn't want to get her hopes up. Fred's eyes bulged out of his head and the atmosphere in the Great Hall shifted drastically. Everyone moved closer to the front where George and I were kneeling beside Harry's body – no, beside Harry.
Madam Pomfrey made George move out of the way so she could examine him. She didn't attempt to get me to move, which was a wise decision because I was gripping Harry's shoulder so hard I didn't think I could move even if I wanted to. I had never seen Madam Pomfrey look like this before: her eyes were puffy and red; she had no doubt been crying. She raised a trembling hand, preparing to check his pulse, but hesitated, afraid of what she would find. I saw her whisper something under her breath, a prayer, maybe. She was so desperately hoping that she'd feel a pulse but she was terrified she wouldn't.
Not coming back (Not coming back)
Not coming back (Not coming back)
She lifted Harry's wrist, pressed two fingers against his veins, and knew right away. She gave a gasp of surprise, then a cry of delight, and tears spilled down her blanched face."HE'S ALIVE!"
I know it seems like we're never coming back
I know it feels like we're never coming back
There was an instant uproar in the Great Hall. Fireworks shot up from the ends of wands, cheers and screams of joy erupted from all over, even the injured had sat up and laughed with elation. This was a euphoria I had never known before. A warmth was spreading from my fingertips all the way down to my toes. He was not gone forever.
You tried your best and you knew it wouldn't last
They were the words that she placed on her casket
Its going to be okay.
No one seemed to know why or how he was alive, or why he was lying there in an undisturbed sleep while there could have been explosions going off around him, but for the moment I didn't care. I stroked the side of Harry's youthful face, getting a thrill from the warm feel of it. Soft, warm flesh with blood racing beneath it. Alive. I ran my hand through his messy hair and burst into tears again. Ron, Hermione and Mum knelt beside me, sobbing harder than ever but now with smiles on their faces. Fred, George, Lupin and Tonks were suddenly there, all crying and grinning at the same time. All of the professors, all of the students, even shopkeepers and homeowners from Hogsmeade who probably never met Harry, were crying tears of joy and whooping and cheering. It wasn't over.
Even Percy couldn't help but sob into Mum's shoulder, who patted his hand briefly before checking Harry's pulse to feel for herself that he was alive. Harry must have had his pulse checked a dozen times that day; no one seemed to believe it. All of the DA members were standing behind us. Cho Chang was weeping and laughing; Luna strangely looked like she wasn't surprised but rather expected this to happen, but pleased all the same.
Finally, once the excitement settled down a bit, George asked the big questions: "But why is he alive? And why isn't he conscious? And did the Death Eaters know when they brought him to us?"
"No, they definitely didn't know." I said. I wanted to feel angry just by thinking about the Death Eaters but I couldn't. Harry was alive and nothing could ruin the ecstasy I was in right then, not even them. "They seemed to really believe he's dead."
"But why isn't he?" Kingsley Shacklebolt interjected.
"He seems to be under some sort of spell. A Playing Dead spell of some sort, used to slow down the breathing and heartbeat of a person and put them into a deep sleep. Its usually used during wars to make an injured person who can't fight seem dead, so the enemy will leave them alone." Madam Pomfrey said. "I don't know the name of the spell, or how to remove it. All I know is that the only person who can lift the spell is the person who cast it. And he didn't do it to himself. Someone had to have done it for him."
"So someone saved him?" Lupin looked unbelieving.
"But he was with Death Eaters. So that means…" Fred began.
"A Death Eater did this to save him." George finished.
"It sure looks like it." Madam Pomfrey said.
"But…who?" I asked.
"It was me."All heads snapped around to the doorway where someone stood shrouded in a cloak.