Harry's hands felt the cold marble. He traced each name he recognized with his fingers. James Potter the stone read. Right below, said the name Lily Potter. Next to both names was the date, October 31, 1981. The fateful night, the night that his destiny began, and life as he had known it ended, the night that his parents had left this earth, leaving him as an orphan. Completely ignorant of the pain he was going to endure.
He irritably wiped away the wetness in his eyes, and moved on down the list. He saw names of people that he didn't know personally, but recognized their names such as Bertha Jorkins, and Barty Crouch Sr. He felt his stomach do a somersault at the next name he read: Cedric Diggory. Harry remembered that night all to well. He could practically hear Voldemort say the three words that ended Cedric's short life "Kill the spare."
Harry continued to go down the list. He had just reached the name Sirius Black, when he heard a familiar voice ask a simple question, "Mr. Potter, is that you? What on earth are you doing here?" the voice belonged to Minerva McGonagall. The voice was softer, quieter, and filled with the utmost concern. Harry didn't respond, he didn't know how to. McGonagall put her hand on his shoulder. He was now taller than she was, but she still had this sense of authority, as if she wasn't a person to cross.
Professor McGonagall felt her eyes fill with tears. This young man, this seventeen year old boy, had endured, suffered, and lost, so much. At mere age of seventeen, Harry Potter had gone through much more than most people do in a lifetime.
Harry sighed. He decided to take the risk of looking at his old professor, and was disturbed with what he saw. She was looking at him with tear-filled eyes, and tear-streaked cheeks, but that wasn't what appalled him. In her tear filled eyes was a look of utmost pity. Harry sighed again, this time out of exasperation. He looked her in the eyes, his bright green ones unusually stern. "I don't want your pity." He said with more force, and harshness than he intended. "I know you don't." McGonagall said. Her voice was almost inaudible, but Harry heard her. He knew he shouldn't have been so rude, and couldn't help but remember how loyal she had been to him and Dumbledore during the battle hardly a week before. He looked back at the marble plaque. "It isn't fair." Said the professor. "What isn't fair?" Harry asked, looking at her again, but this time not meeting her tearful (and to his dismay, pitiful) eyes. "That, at such a young age, you have had to go through so much." She said as a tear rolled down her cheek. Harry didn't know what to say to this. His bright green eyes glistened with tears, and once again met her dark lined ones. She smiled a watery smile, patted him on his shoulder, and turned to leave
Harry's eyes followed McGonagall out the door, and lingered at the place she had just left. Harry didn't know quite what to think of there short lived heart to heart, but what he had said, he meant. The very last thing that he wanted was Minerva McGonagall's pity. Harry took one last sad look at the Memorial Plaque with all of the manes of the people who had lost their lives fighting against Voldemort.
As Harry left the Hogwarts grounds, he looked back, and saw something that made his heart stop; The Shrieking Shack. This was where Harry witnessed Lord Voldemort take Severus Snape's life. This was the place where he discovered the truth about Sirius. This shack was where Remus had all of his painful transformations during his time at Hogwarts. This was where his father-whom he was never met-spent much of his Hogwarts time. He was accompanied by his godfather-whom he had lost just three years ago, but seemed as if it were if a different lifetime. Along with a father figure, whose death was so recent it ached his heart just to think about him, and the man who was the means of the death of his parents.
Now that Harry thought about it, Harry realized that he had indeed lost quite a bit in his life. This place that he had once called home, was now torturing him with memories, memories that he could not handle. He wondered why he had come here in the first place. This castle brought back so many painful memories that he would much rather forget.
Harry swallowed. He needed to concentrate on apparating, getting out of this place-a place that had always brought him so much joy, but now left him in terrible sadness- Harry couldn't do it. He couldn't concentrate enough to apparate. What was wrong with him? He took a deep breath, and was surprised at how unsteady it was. He closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind. He took another deep breath, the one a little more steady than the last. He tried to apparate again; this time he had just enough concentration to make it to Grimmauld Place without splinching himself.
The moment he arrived at Grimmauld Place he instantly regretted it. Just being in the same house that his godfather despised, but was forced to live in, brought tears to his eyes. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't emotionally handle staying here. Harry didn't know what was wrong with him. He had been able to say here with Ron and Hermione while searching for the horcruxes for weeks, he had even been able to go into Sirius' old room without feeling anymore than a little sad. Now, he couldn't even enter Sirius' house with out being on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
Harry wanted to go someplace-anyplace-else. But truth be told he didn't know exactly where that place was. He had already ruled out Hogwarts, the castle held to many painful memories. Harry couldn't let himself go to The Burrow. The Weasleys had to grieve themselves. He knew that he was probably the last person they wanted in their house. He was, after all, the main reason why Fred was no longer with them. What he really wanted-and he hated himself for admitting it-was a parent. All of his parental figures were now dead.
Harry sighed, took off his traveling cloak, and left the room. With a sharp intake of breath he realized what room he was in, and looked around the room. He know officially knew that he couldn't handle being here, but couldn't bring himself to leave. This was the room that once had Sirius' face, but was now just a burnt hole in the wall. Harry felt tear run down his cheeks, but couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. He moved closer to the wall, and placed his head where Sirius' was burnt off. He stayed like that for a few moments, and then started to pound the walls with his fist. That was when he heard several people-sounded like from the kitchen-scream.
"Harry! What the hell?" Harry heard Ron shout form just outside the door. He lifted his head up to see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny standing at the doorway with worried looks-and in Hermione's case tears- in their eyes. Harry looked away; he did not feel like dealing with people, especially the very people who knew him best. He stormed out the door, and out of the house knowing-again-that he was being rude, but he would rather be rude than have Ron, Hermione, and Ginny (Ginny especially) see him loose control, and he knew how frighteningly close that was. He had just gotten his wand out, and was ready to apparate away (exactly where he was still unsure), when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
The hand was gentle to the touch, yet made shivers run down his spine. With Ginny's hand on his shoulder, he just couldn't get himself to apparate away from her. "Harry?" her voice was soft, yet it had such strength to it that his knees buckled. He knew what she was asking him, she was asking if he was alright, but he just couldn't bring himself to answer her. "Harry." She repeated as her voice shook slightly. She already seemed to know what his answer would have been, had he answered her. He knew she had been worrying, he could just tell, with that thought; he finally made himself look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her expression was pained.
She loved him. He could tell that just by looking into her sparkling brown eyes. He knew he loved her. But would it be enough? Would it be in her best interest? He was, after all, Harry Potter. Trouble and danger followed him everywhere he went. He couldn't live with himself if anything happened to Ginny; he was already having trouble living with himself knowing that she was in pain. She had already lost a brother because of him, how much more would she have to endure?
He looked away, but she continued to stare at him. He could feel his composure start to crumble under her piercing gaze. Harry leaned against the door as his legs gave out from under him, and he put his head in his hands. Although his legs and his dignity had failed him, his eyes stayed dry. He looked up at Ginny, and could tell that she was just as surprised about this as he was. She got down on her knees, and kneeled down in front of him. She lifted his chin up with her pointer finger- he noticed how very red and blotchy her eyes were-and she kissed him. He was surprised at first, but then realized that when he kissed her, he didn't feel awful anymore. When he kissed her back he felt no pain, no sorrow, grief, or guilt. He just felt love, unconditional love.