Disclamer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter world. Everything is owned by JK Rowling and various publishers. I do not own Harry. Only the ideas expressed in this story are mine, so don't sue.
Author's Note: This just came to me today when I had a sudden inspiration to write. I thought about these things and took a walk outside, and here's what I came up with. I hope you enjoy. Please review and tell me any corrections or changes you find. This is probably just a one shot, but if my muse is not satisfied it could become more. Enjoy.
The Colors Whisper
Harry turns over in bed for the third time and his restlessness grows. He knows it is time and climbs out of bed. He does not rub the sleep out of his eyes for there is no need. He slowly dresses in a pair of loose jeans, a jumper, and shoes. He grabs is cloak and slowly heads down to the common room.
Once there he looks around, feeling lost and alone. Then he remembers where he needs to go. He heads out of the portrait hole and into the cold and drafty castle. He ignores this however and continues to walk. He walks all through the castle until he reaches the Entrance Hall. Upon reaching the doors, he slowly pulls them open without a sound and walks out onto the grounds.
He stands for a moment as if confused, but then shakes his head and continues on. He walks slowly but deliberately across the expansive grounds until he begins to climb. He walks slower as his legs tire and his breathing becomes more rapid. He climbs and climbs, ignoring the stitch in his side and the sharp air. He knows his destination now and only focuses on that one spot where he can just be.
He finally reaches the top of the hill, his hill, and turns around. He makes no noise as he slowly sits cross-legged on the grassy slope as if in a trance. He looks out across the grounds, past Hagrid's hut and the lake, past the castle and the greenhouses, past the edge of the earth, until he is free.
Smoke begins to curl from Hagrid's chimney and animals come out of their hiding places to start the day, but Harry does not see these things. He only sees bright, blinding color that slowly turns to darkness as he stares.
In this darkness, he is finally free. Freer than he has ever been; freer even then sleep, where he dreams of green flashes, Cedric's cold body grasped in his hand, shrill screams, and Sirius. Sirius falling through the fail without a sound. Falling again, and again, and again until sleep comes no more.
But there is no worry or pain, no guilt or pressure on his hill. There is only him and the colors that turn to black.
Birds begin to chirp as they fly overhead searching for food, but Harry does not hear them. He only hears soft encouraging whispers wrapping themselves around him to comfort him like nothing else can. Here he can be in his own world away from the hushed whispers in the corridors and the flying accusations.
There is a slight breeze now and Harry unconsciously pulls his cloak tighter across his body.
He finally closes his watery eyes as the cold, dry air stings them, and he slowly unfolds his legs and lies back on the damp grass.
There are rocks under his back and a beetle crawling across his arm, but he does not feel these things. He is floating, suspended in a cloud; lost in his own world that he has built for himself.
This is when he is free. On this hill, in this world, on mornings like this where it is mostly clear, clear enough to actually see the sun rise, but where there are just enough clouds to reflect the light into a beautiful rainbow of colors that whisper to him encouragingly and allow him to face another day as The Boy Who Lived And Must Now Defeat The Dark Lord Or Die Trying.