Written for the weekly challenge at the House Cup on Tumblr.
Set in the third installment of the Harry Potter series. Maybe a slight deviation or a filler scene. I don't really know. Please enjoy!
I own nothing!
His hand gripped the broom at his side firmly. His feet stepped onto the wet, morning dewed grass at the bottom of the pitch. And his breath crystallized in front of him.
Morning had just dawned and many students didn't rise with the sun. With only his thoughts to accompany him, he was granted the opportunity to fly alone.
Harry continued to walk until he was in the center of the pitch. He didn't know why he had to walk all the way to the center to mount his broom. Usually at the beginning of a match, he would have departed from the ground back at the gates. But today there were no teammates around him and today was not a game.
Today was about learning to fly.
Granted, he knew how to fly – he was one of the best in the school and flew as Gryffindor's seeker. He had been graced with the ability to catch the snitch in every single game he played. But that all changed last week - that all changed when he allowed his fear to play the game instead.
It was no secret to Harry that there were people – powerful people – whom wanted him dead. And those people didn't hesitate to try to kill him at any chance that they were given.
So Harry became afraid. Even in the comfort of Hogwart's protection and surrounded by people who only wanted him to succeed, he was still afraid.
Every shadow, every whisper, or every corner could hide the secrets to his death. And for every moment that his heart still beat was a moment more that he lived in fear.
But no more.
Not after today.
It ends now.
Standing in the center of the pitch, Harry mounted his broom. However he didn't take off.
Instead, he closed his eyes and then inhaled a sharp breath as images of the dementors tormented the forefront of his mind. And as the images progressed, he felt the air around him chill and goosebumps rise on his arms and up his neck.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer the dementors came. Their faces masked by the hoods of their cloaks and the bottoms of their cloaks trailing behind them as they got closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Opening his eyes quickly, Harry let out a yelp as he jumped off his broom and fell to the ground.
His heart raced fast and beat loudly in his ears. His entire body shook and his breaths were fast and short.
His fingers dug into the grass as he let out a growl of frustration. No! He told himself. Not today.
He stood up from the ground, his clothes now stained with grass, and walked over to pick up his broom.
Again, he mounted his broom. This time with a determination that hardened him – his eyebrows knit together and his jaw set tightly. A fire ignited in his eyes rekindling a passion that had been lost when the demons crept from the shadows of his fears.
But those demons would be no more.
Gone.
Beaten.
Vanquished.
Now here he sat, mounted on his broom once more, ready to conquer the fears that kept him awake at night. He closed his eyes once more and when the dementors started toward him, his fingers tightened around his broom and his shoulders tensed while he inhaled sharply.
No more.
No more.
No more.
And so Harry exhaled slowly. His fingers loosened and his shoulders relaxed. The darkness in his mind slowly vanished, instead replaced with a light derived from any memory, any laugh, any smile that he had ever encountered. Every moment of love he ever encountered burned in the forefront of his mind.
Today he woke up to his demons.
Today he fought his demons.
And today he beat his demons.
The only thing stronger than fear is hope. Now his demons – his fears – were no more.
So with one firm push off the ground, he flew for the first time since his demons won their last battle. But today he won the war.