A/N: This is set near the start of fifth-year, probably early October. Also, I own nothing whatsoever. Enjoy.
Harry rolled over in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Letting out a soft sigh, he rolled out of bed quietly, grabbing his invisibility cloak.
His nightmares were back, in glorious colour and surround sound. The ending never changed; every time he saw Cedric die the same way, the spark of life leaving his eyes at the same moment, his body hitting the ground with the same awful finality.
Each time he relived the memory, he felt more and more responsible. He should have been able to do something to save Cedric. If he had seen Wormtail coming, and hexed him before he had the time to cast a spell, Cedric would still be alive. If he had realized what was going on earlier, he could have summoned the cup, and they could have escaped before Wormtail even approached. There was so much he could have done, so much he should have done, and Cedric was dead because of his failure.
He had to walk. He made his way down quietly to the common-room, stopping there to look at the clock. 2 a.m. He squeezed his way through the portrait hole and out into the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady's protests. He began to walk down the hallway, not really sure where he was going, just needing to get some air, to rid his head of the thoughts that dominated both his waking and dreaming lives.
He walked past a window and was nearly blinded by the cold light of the full moon streaming through it, his eyes struggling to adjust. Then he passed the window, and was cast back into the relative darkness of the candle-lit castle.
The moon seemed to be particularly bright tonight, and Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for Professor Lupin, who was no doubt struggling to sleep as well.
Harry found himself walking towards the Astronomy Tower. He climbed up the steps to the observatory platform, figuring it was as good a place as any to collect his thoughts.
He leaned against the railing of the circular platform, looking up at the night sky. It was brighter than Harry had seen it anywhere else in the world; there was virtually no light pollution near Hogwarts, and he could see thousands upon thousands of stars. He saw a couple of constellations that he remembered from Astronomy, clearer than he had ever seen them before. It was an extraordinary night.
But looking at the beauty of the night sky, the peacefulness and tranquility that the night brought surrounding him, he felt a surge of anger. All of this peace was going to be shattered. Voldemort was back, and there was going to be a war. But nobody in the Ministry, nobody who had the resources to stop Voldemort from gaining power, from recruiting more and more Death Eaters, would even acknowledge his return.
One innocent had already died that Harry knew of, and he was sure there were many more. How many ended lives, how many shattered futures would it take before the Ministry would value saving lives over saving face? What would it take for somebody besides Dumbledore to stand up and take responsibility for weathering the coming storm? Because if that moment didn't come soon, Voldemort might not meet much resistance.
Harry heard footsteps approaching from below. They sounded very light, as if their owner was trying not to be heard. Harry double-checked that the cloak was covering him completely, before turning his back to the stairs and continuing to gaze out at the sky. He didn't really care who it was; they wouldn't be able to see him, and he wasn't in the mood to talk anyway.
A few moments later the footsteps stopped, their owner leaning against the railing right next to Harry. It was Luna. She was humming to herself, seemingly deep in her own private universe.
"It's a beautiful night, isn't it, Harry?"
Harry jumped, startled.
"You can see me?" he replied, suddenly worried that his cloak had stopped working.
She shook her head. "I could sense your feelings. Your anger in particular. You're the only person I know who can go invisible, so I figured it had to be you."
She said this very matter-of-factly, as if sensing emotions from seemingly empty surroundings was a common talent.
Harry took off the cloak, not wanting to be rude. "It is a nice night," he said, gazing out at the stars.
She looked at him, her distant gaze oddly piercing. "You don't really think so, do you?" she asked.
He didn't respond.
"You can't bottle your feelings up for ever, Harry. You have to let them out, or else they'll just keep building until they overpower you."
"I don't really want to talk about it," he said, truthfully, avoiding her gaze.
"Why not?"
"You wouldn't understand. It's not just you; nobody would."
She didn't respond, instead turning away to look at the stars. They stood there in silence for a minute, maybe longer, it was hard to tell.
"You see that?" she said, pointing out into the sky. "There, to the left of the Little Dipper. Those five stars."
He finally saw the constellation she was pointing at. It was one of the faintest in the sky, barely visible. If they hadn't been so far from the nearest city the constellation would have been completely drowned out by the artificial light.
"That's Columba," she said. "The Dove. It's a symbol of peace."
"It seems to be a long way off," Harry said grimly.
She shrugged. "Maybe. But if we can see it up there in the sky every night, is it really that far away from us?"
"I think war is a lot closer," Harry replied.
Luna nodded.
"It is." She paused for a moment. "Harry, you have to talk to somebody. It doesn't have to be me, but you can't go on carrying everything inside of you. I know what happens when you contain emotions."
She took a deep breath, her voice growing softer, more serious.
"They change; your sorrow becomes depression, and your anger becomes equal parts blame and guilt. I know you don't think anybody can understand, but you should know that you're not alone. You have friends who care for you. I know that Ron and Hermione have been worried about you for months. It hurts them when they see you like this."
"Please, Harry, for your sake and for theirs, don't try to take this all on yourself. Nothing good comes of taking responsibility for things you can't control."
She spoke quietly but uncharacteristically firmly, her words carrying the unfortunate weight of experience. Harry didn't know what she had been through, and he didn't want to ask, but he suddenly found himself feeling that maybe Luna would understand, that maybe she would be able to help.
So he talked. He told her about everything that had happened since June, the events of the final task, his awful summer, the Dementors and the hearing, and the return of his nightmares. She was the first person that he had told the whole story to- not just the facts, but what he had been feeling at the time, how scared he had been, and now how responsible he felt and how worried he was for the future.
She was a patient listener, not interrupting him with questions. There would have been nothing for her to ask him, anyway; he told her everything.
When he had finally finished, she gave him a slight smile.
"Better?" she asked lightly.
He did feel somewhat better, but he couldn't get rid of the image of Cedric, slumped on the ground, that kept appearing in his mind.
"You can't blame yourself, Harry," she said, as if she had read his thoughts. "You did everything you could."
"It wasn't enough."
She sighed, turning to look up at the sky, at the dove she had shown him earlier.
"I know."
She stared up at the dove for a while longer.
"Sometimes things just happen, though, and we can't control them. This was one of those things. You'll go crazy if you analyze everything, searching for what you could have done differently."
She didn't look at him when she spoke, and Harry wondered if she was even talking to him anymore. Regardless, she was probably right. Maybe he had to let Cedric go, maybe he had to accept that he had died and that there was nothing he could have done. He didn't think he could do that yet, it was too soon, but he was feeling a lot better. It was a start.
"You should get some sleep," she said, glancing over at him. "You look like you need it."
He nodded. "You should head back too. Why are you even up here, anyway?"
"I don't need much sleep," she replied. "Never have, really. Good night, Harry."
"Good night, Luna."
It was only as Harry was climbing back up the stairs to his dormitory that he realized she hadn't answered his question.
Luna was looking up at the dove, watching as it moved, ever so slowly, down towards the brightening horizon.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered to the sky.
She knew she shouldn't blame herself. She apologized anyway.
She stayed there until the sun rose.