Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Potter-verse. Nor do I own the song Early Morning Rain. They are J.K.R's and Gordon Lightfoot's respectively.
In the early morning rain
With a dollar in my hand
And an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sin
I'm a long way from home
And I miss my loved ones, so
In the early morning rain with no place to go
It's raining again. But then again it always rains here. I don't think a day has gone by since I arrived four years ago, which we haven't had at least a shower. I didn't realize that when I decided to come here. Not that it would have changed anything. After all England gets a lot of rain as well. But that's a cold rain. Cold and lonely. Funny to say that an act of nature has an emotion. But it's true. England's rain is like being all alone in a cold room with no one there. No one to talk to. No one to hold your hand or tell you it's okay. No one to stand by you. That's part of the reason I left. Because after the last battle that's exactly how I felt. Alone. Even when the room was full of people. Not one of them could say that they knew how I felt. Oh, I'm sure that they lost family or friends or both. But none of them could say that they could empathize with me. And thankfully not one of them tried. It was like they knew it would upset me.
You may wonder why I am no longer there. The answer is simple. I couldn't stay there. I couldn't be part of the celebrations. I couldn't be the hypocrite. I knew what had to be done but I wasn't happy that I had done it. I was relieved that he was gone but at the same time I would have given anything not to have been the one to do it. I often wonder if the sin that is now branded on my soul will be held against me on my judgement day. Will I be able to justify it? Will I be able to look at St. Peter or Hades and tell them that it was for the greater good?
And yet here I am. Sitting in the rain, my heart aching for those I loved and left behind. Sitting in a rain that is very different that England's rain. No, the rain here is warm and welcoming. It is a rain that promises rebirth. Like being baptized again. It washes over me and cleanses me. I no longer get strange looks from the locals now. They are used to me. My very first day here I went out into the rain. The feeling it gave me was indescribable. It started to wash away my guilt and the mark on my soul. At first they laughed at me. Then they whispered about me. Then they asked me why. I could not explain it to them except to say that it cleansed my soul. Slowly but surely they stopped staring and whispering. If anyone new came to the island and asked about me, they would defend me by saying I was washing away my pain.
So why is it now, after four years have I decided that I need to go back. My soul will never be completely clean. Nothing could ever do that. But it is as free from sin that it is going to get. So now it is time to go and seek freedom from the guilt of leaving. I don't know that I can be freed from that. I left them when we should have been starting our lives. I left them right when we could have been free to do anything. So I guess in a way, I did just that. I was free to leave. They will argue that I was still needed. But really, I did my job. Was it so bad to want something for myself for once? They would say yes. And that is another reason I left.
Out on runway number nine
Big seven oh seven set to go
But I'm stuck here on the ground
Where the cold winds blow
You can't jump a jet plane
Like you can a freight train
So I best be on my way in the early morning rain
And so, here I sit in the small island airport. Waiting on the plane that will take me home. Home. Is it really home now? They would say yes, but I'm not so sure. There are certainly houses there that are mine. There is more then enough money there to build a new one if I don't want the others. But that's not what really makes a home. And I'm not sure that I have the energy or the will to make a house a home.
I am tired and I wish that the plane would get here so I could leave. I love this place but I am so restless now. In the blink of an eye I could be there, sitting on the front doorstep. But that's how I left. And I want to experience the dragged out version going back. I feel as though I need to punish myself with a long journey, just sitting and thinking. Growing more anxious and unsettled with every mile that goes by.
I don't know what they will say when I just show up. I imagine some will cry, some will yell, some will have cold indifference to hide the surprise. But all will be happy. I guess. Maybe after four years they have given up on me, just as I gave up on them. Maybe they will shut the door in my face. If they do, then I will come back to my island, secure in the knowledge that I tried. I will sit on my chair near my house and feel the rain on my face and my soul.
But for now I go.
Hear a mighty engine's roar
See the silver bird on high
She's a way out westward bound
Far above my home she'll fly
Where the morning rain don't fall and the sun always shines
She'll be flying that's my home
In about three hours time.
I hear the plane now. Hard not too really. Planes this big don't normally stop on the island. Only once or twice a year to bring the seasonal workers here and back home. And now it will take me too.
It resembles a giant bird, doesn't it. A way to happiness. Or a way to pain. It can bring home loved ones from far away or it can take them away. To me right now it is a hateful being. One that is going to take away my choices. Funny, isn't it. My last choice is going to be the one that could possibly take all the rest away.
The next three hours on this plane are going to be torture. I think it may be even worse then the mental anguish from him. Because I chose this anguish. I chose to bring this on myself. I walked away and now I must deal with walking back. I hope I am strong enough to do it. I am not so sure that I am. But I have to try. Otherwise there will be another sin on my soul and I don't think I could live with that.
In the early morning rain
With a dollar in my hand
And an aching in my heart
And my pockets full of sin
I'm a long way from home and I miss my love ones so
In the early morning rain with no place to go.
Home. It does feel like home. I didn't think it would. It doesn't feel welcoming yet but it feels. . . familiar. I will walk to the first house. I think the wolf in him will be happy to see its cub, even if the man is not happy to see the godson. I am taking the cowards way out but really I have been brave enough for far to long and it's tiring.
The house looks the same as it did four years ago and I can here people in there. But I can't bring myself to raise my hand. Where's my Gryffindor courage now? Hiding behind my Slytherin self-preservation, I bet. Huh.
Come on, raise our hand and knock. What's the worst he. . they can say or do. Reject you? Been there, done that. It'll hurt like hell but I'll at least know.
"Hi, Remus. I. . it's raining and I have no where. . "
"Harry. We've been waiting for you. Welcome home Cub. It's been too long."
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the rain here can cleanse you as well.
In the early morning rain with no place to go.