Chapter 2
Ron watched Hermione as she slept on her bed. One of the potions Madam Pomfrey had fed her had been an extended dreamless sleep potion. This, she had said, would make sure that Hermione would recover faster without any chance of her wound re-opening.
Lucky her.
Ron wished they would knock him out as well. It would be better than this.
When they had first gotten the news a few hours ago, Ron had scoffed. As if Harry could be dead.
But Dumbledore and Lupin had both confirmed it. Then Hermione had gone into shock and her wound, which had barely been healed had opened again. So Madam Pomfrey had to keep her sedated. Till there is no chance of the wound re-opening, she had said, which according to her, would take another twelve hours.
She would probably wake up in the morning. He hoped she would be fine. She was the only friend he had now.
It was nearly midnight. Ron looked around the darkened hospital wing. A few beds away from him lay Harry's body, shielded by a curtain. There was no one around that bed.
Of course not, he thought. Sirius is dead.
He nearly laughed at the irony. They had gone to the Ministry to save Sirius. But because they had gone, they had not only lost Sirius, they had also lost Harry.
And what had he done? Nothing. Useless, he thought. He had been the first one to be taken out and then he had been attacked by brains. Five years, he had spent being jealous of Harry, his fame, his wealth. He had also been afraid that his parents, his mother especially, preferred Harry to him. But all his illusions had been shattered that afternoon.
His parents, Bill and the twins had come that afternoon. They had first come to him and Ginny, making sure they were alright. Then, they had lingered by Harry's bed for a few moments before they had left. His mother had broken down on seeing Harry's body, but she had allowed his father to lead her away. That was what had opened his eyes.
If it were him or any of his siblings lying in Harry's place, he knew that nothing could have moved their mother from their bedside. But as much as she loved Harry, he was not her son. He remembered how Cedric's parents had stayed at his bedside watching his body. But Harry had no one. And his lonely corpse was proof of that. Lupin had apparently come early in the morning before Ron had woken up. He had not returned since then. And none of the students had come. Ron knew that an announcement had been made that day. He also knew that the Ministry had twisted the truth completely. And his relatives…
All the times I could have died and I didn't manage? They will be furious
Harry's voice echoed in his head. He should have known that. Had he not seen the barred windows, the locked door? Had Harry not told him about the cupboard under the stairs? But he had been too busy feeling sorry for himself to care. Not a single galleon from Harry's vault had come to his rescue when he faced Voldemort. And his fame? Ron realized that Harry had barely gotten any benefit from being the Boy-Who-Lived. He had only been persecuted... by the Ministry, by the Daily Prophet, by the warding community and by Hogwarts.
If only he had had these realizations before...it was too late now. Harry was dead. He, Ron, would never be able to forgive himself for being a crappy friend.
Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of lightning which illuminated the darkened room temporarily followed by a loud roar of thunder. Ron glanced out of the window for a moment and then did a double take.
Where are the clouds?
The sky was clear. He could see the stars in the sky. But lightning currents kept appearing in the sky.
Ron was astonished and terrified at the same time. What was going on? Then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The night became completely silent.
Before Ron could wonder, a small light caught his eye. He turned around and gasped. There was a glow, steadily becoming brighter, coming from behind the curtains shielding Harry's bed from view. He stared at it for a moment before coming to his senses and shouting, "MADAM POMFREY! MADAM POMFREY! COME HERE!HURRY!"
There was a sound of something being knocked over from the adjacent room, before the door opened and Madam Pomfrey came out, her wand in hand.
"What is...". The question died on her lips as she stared at the now bright glow.
"What on earth...". She never had time to complete her question as in that moment the curtains were blasted away.
Both Ron and Madam Pomfrey stared wide-eyed as Harry's body floated in the air for a moment before the light disappeared and Harry's body fell back on the mattress.
They were still staring, completely befuddled when with with a shuddering gasp, Harry opened his eyes.
Albus Dumbledore sighed as he emerged from his penseive. No matter how many times he saw the memory, he knew it would change nothing. He had failed. Harry was dead.
He sat on his chair, his head in his hands. He had made many mistakes in his life. But this... If only he had told Harry about the prophecy, this would not have happened. But he had been determined to let Harry have a childhood, conveniently ignoring the fact that Harry's childhood had been lost the moment he had left him with the Dursleys.
And they had gained absolutely nothing tonight. It was one blow after the other. First, they had lost both Harry and Sirius. And his duel with Voldemort had been most surprising. By the time he had arrived, Voldemort had already killed Harry. In his grief and anger, he had cast an ancient petrification spell on Voldemort, one that an ordinary shield could not have blocked. Voldemort had reacted with the Shield of Ether.
But it was not the fact that Voldemort had cast the spell that stunned Dumbledore, after all, he was strong. No, it was the fact that he had done so wandlessly and not looked even slightly exhausted after casting the spell that shocked him. The Shield of Ether required power and control. So much power was not easy to control without a wand.
But Voldemort had done so. He had done it instantaneously and effortlessly. And then he had given Dumbledore an amused smirk as he grabbed Bellatrix and apparated away.
Something had changed about him. Physically too. He no longer looked like how Harry had described him. He more or less resembled the Tom Riddle who had come to him for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher many years ago.
And things had only become worse. He had been able to get the children and Lupin away from the Ministry before Fudge had arrived. He had then explained most of the situation to Fudge. But Fudge had refused to believe him. Oh he certainly had believed that Harry Potter was dead and had been a little shocked at the news. But Dumbledore had grossly underestimated the influence that Lucius Malfoy had on Fudge. Barely twelve hours after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, Lucius Malfoy and the Death-Eaters who had originally not been in Azkaban walked free claiming to be under the imperious curse...again.
And, he Dumbledore, was still on the run for apparently trying to destabilize the Ministry. He almost chuckled as he sat in his office. The magic of Hogwarts was older than that of the Ministry. He was the rightful headmaster and hence his office would open only for him. But he could not linger here forever. He would have to leave again. Things would only get worse from there.
A sudden flash of lightning caught his attention. He frowned. He had not realized it was cloudy. Glancing out of the window, he gave a gasp and walked towards it. Never in a hundred and fifty years had he seen something like this. Lightning currents were very clearly racing across a clear sky. Then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.
What was that?, he wondered.
He turned around quickly on hearing a noise in his office, a noise he should no longer have been able to hear. A silver instrument in his office, that had once monitored Harry's condition, had re-activated itself.
How?
He did not understand. The instrument had died along with Harry.
The noise kept growing and then the instrument exploded. Dumbledore threw up a wandless shield to protect himself from the fragments.
Impossible. It cannot be.
There was only one way he could be certain. He left his office and ran towards the Hospital Wing. As he entered it, he saw Madam Pomfrey and Ronald Weasley staring wide-eyed at something. Or rather someone. He could not help but stare himself. It was not the end after all. There was still hope.
Harry Potter lived again.