Chapter 9 – Reuniting.
Later that evening, the group sat in the common room. The candlelight gave the room a soft glow and shimmered off the scarlet and gold wall hangings.
Ron and Hermione lay sprawled on the floor, engrossed in a game of wizard chess, whilst Ginny and Harry lounged on a sofa, cradling mugs of hot chocolate and staring into the fire.
Suddenly, without warning, there was a loud crack. Harry and Ginny jumped in shock, whilst Hermione knocked over several chess pieces in surprise. Standing before them was a tiny house elf, looking somewhat nervous. The small, wizened figure approached them timidly, holding out an envelope.
"Mr. Potter, a note for you from the Headmistress..." He thrust the envelope at Harry, who took it gingerly. As soon as it was in his grasp, the elf disappeared once again.
"That's a bit odd…" he muttered, opening the message. Ron stood behind him, craning to read what it said.
The two of them read the elaborate handwriting in silence for a few seconds, before Ron stepped away. He hissed a lungful of air out from between his teeth.
"No wonder that house elf made a sharp exit! I'm following his example! Come on, Hermione." He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, towing her along behind him as he walked away.
"What does it say?" Harry heard her whisper.
"I'll tell you in a minute," Ron muttered. "This is not going to be pretty…" His voice faded as they retreated.
Harry sat, unmoving.
"What is it? What's the matter?" Ginny asked, voice full of concern.
He passed the note to her.
"Harry,
I wondered if you would consider saying a few words at tomorrow's memorial. I ask you, not only as our Head Boy, but as someone who has lost as much, if not more, than any one else as a result of this dreadful war.
There is no need to send a reply immediately. I only ask that you think about it before you refuse. It would mean a lot to everyone.
Yours,
M. McG."
She passed the note back to him and studied his face.
"You're planning on saying no, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," he replied stiffly.
She groaned in disgust, and turned her face away from him.
He felt stung by her response. "What's that for?"
"For being an idiot!" she snapped.
"What do you mean?"
"Harry, I know you might not want to do this, but has it occurred to you that maybe you NEED to?"
He looked at her blankly.
"Look, you can let this haunt you for the rest of your life, if you want. You can kick up a fuss every time someone or something reminds you that you're different, just like you did about the Head Boy thing. Or you can make a choice. You can draw a line under it all and try and get some closure."
He looked away from her, not wanting to listen to what she was saying, though not enough to get up and walk away.
"Maybe speaking at the memorial tomorrow will help you do that, the way Fred's funeral did for me. It helped me see that what's done is done, and it allowed me to move on."
"You've moved on?" he asked derisively.
"Yes, I have. I wouldn't be able to bear coming back here if I hadn't. And it's time you did as well."
"I have…" he mumbled, unconvincingly.
"No, you haven't! You're still blaming yourself for surviving when so many others didn't. Don't look at me like that, I know you do. I hear it in your voice when you talk about it, and I can see it in your eyes when you hold Teddy. It's as if you're apologizing to him for not being Remus or something. I know that's why you were spending so much time with him last week – to try and make up for what you think you took away from him."
He glared at her, resenting the truth in her words.
"You need to come to terms with the fact that they're gone and you're here, and that you are not to blame for that. And I really think that speaking tomorrow might help you do that. Don't you see? It's okay to live your life. It's okay to move on. You can still remember the people we've lost and you can honour them – by accepting who you are, what you mean to people, and really LIVING your life."
She waited for him to say something, but he sat, unmoving.
"Don't do this for them. Even though I know it would mean a lot to all those who lost someone. Don't do it for me, just because I've asked you to. Do it for you. Speak at the memorial tomorrow because it will help YOU. And then let it go." She put her hand on his arm, and looked at him imploringly. After a moment, she stood and walked over to the other side of the room to join Ron and Hermione, who were deep in conversation.
Harry sat where he was for the longest time. Everything Ginny had said swirled around his mind. He hardly dared hope that she was right. That this one act would assuage the heaviness in his chest and the choking guilt that threatened to suffocate him when he was alone in bed at night. He let his mind play over it again and again, as the common room began to get quieter and empty for the night.
He wasn't really aware of it as his hand reached for the quill on the table and wrote one word under the message in his hand.
"Okay," he wrote.
Okay. He'd trust her. He'd try.
The next day, the entire school sat outside next to the lake, on rows of chairs laid out for the occasion. An aisle in the middle led up to a stage in front of them, where the teachers and staff sat in their formal black robes, their faces somber. To their right stood an enormous, misshapen mound, covered by a velvet cloth that hung to the ground. Harry was not looking at this. Nor was he looking at the podium where in a matter of moments he would be addressing the school.
Instead, his eyes were fixed on the white tomb in the distance. It seemed to glow in the sunlight and it was so beautiful, Harry could barely stand to drag his eyes from it. He thought back to Dumbledore's funeral, and how he'd thought it was the worst day he'd ever had to endure. But at that moment, he'd have gladly swapped today for that one.
Finally, with great reluctance and a heaviness that seemed to permeate every cell of his being, he stood, and made his way to the stage.
The image of al those faces in front of him nearly made him run back to his seat. To see them all looking at him, their eyes filled with sorrow, was almost too much for him to bear.
His eyes found one face in the crowd. Ginny gave him an encouraging smile and he drew strength from it.
He took a deep breath and began.
"When I was asked to speak to you today, I nearly said no. I didn't have the first clue of what I could say to try and make this easier for you. I was terrified that anything I did say would make it worse. Then someone made me see that I needed to do this – probably more than you need to hear it, if I'm honest. So I agreed. And when I was wracking my brains for what to say, I remembered this poem. It's by a Muggle named Christina Rosetti, and it's called 'Remember'.
"Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far into the silent land;
When you can no longer hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future you had plann'd;
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than you should remember and be sad."
He took a shuddering breath to try and calm the thudding in his chest.
"I do not intend to forget the people we lost in battle. But I do intend to be happy. I intend to go on. For there is no greater service that we can do them than by continuing the fight they began. Our world has been torn apart by hatred and prejudice, and it is only now that it's over we can see how ingrained it was – it is only now that we can see the changes we need to make to our lives in order to ensure this evil never happens again. Our loved ones died fighting for a world based on tolerance and equality, and as we go on in our task to finish what they started and change the world for the better, we must carry those qualities in our hearts."
He looked out at the sea of faces, watching him intently.
"We must make sure that we live our lives – not just exist, but truly live – with passion and meaning, and above all, love. For it is love that sets us apart from those we've defeated, and love that will heal the wounds they wrought. So that is the challenge I set you today. Live your lives with love. Do this in their memory, and we will honour them."
As the applause built, he found Ginny's face in the crowd once more, blazing as it had the day she first kissed him. As they stared at each other, the truth of his words enveloped him, and the image of her face stayed with him as he returned to his seat in the front row.
Professor McGonagall took her place at the podium and silence fell once again.
"What Harry has said is very true. I doubt that any of us could have said it better. We must now do everything in our power to continue what our loved ones began, in order to pay tribute to them. In short, we must rebuild the world Tom Riddle sought to destroy. It is now that the real work begins." She paused briefly. "It is not difficult to fight when our way of life is threatened. And it is not difficult to retaliate when the people we love are hurt or at risk. But when that threat has been vanquished, when we have lost people we care about and endured more pain than any of us thought possible – to continue our fight then is doubtless the most difficult task of all. But continue, we must. For them. I can promise you that it will not be easy. But a wise man once spoke of the importance of doing 'what is right, not what is easy,' and it is in his name, and theirs, that we do this – that we work for the values most dear to us, and live each day with love. So without further ado, I present to you the Hogwarts Memorial to the Fallen."
With that, the velvet covering slithered from its place and onto the floor. It revealed a large bronze statue, not unlike the one that had once stood in the Ministry, Harry mused. It showed a giant, a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a goblin and a house elf, standing together in a tight group. Their eyes looked up into the distance, and each held a wand outstretched to the sky. On the plinth on which it stood was the inscription, "For what is right, not what is easy – A. Dumbledore," and beneath that, a list of names of all those who had died on that fateful day.
Harry was vaguely aware of the applause and the sounds of people leaving their seats, but none of it seemed real to him. He sat there, unmoving. Dreamlike. Time slipped by.
Eventually, he came to realize that he was alone. The rows of seats were empty. There was only him left. And it was as if his body moved with a will of its own. He felt himself rise and walk towards the memorial, as if drawn by a magnetic force.
He couldn't take his eyes off the list of names. First of all, he counted them. Fifty three names in all. Then he began to read them. Over and over again, his lips moving silently as he went through the list, becoming increasingly frantic. He wanted to memorize them, imprint them on his soul, to make sure he carried them with his, wherever he went. Faster and faster, he read them, his eyes moving fervently. Soon, he could hardly see them through the mist that formed in his eyes, but that didn't stop him. Instead, he sank to his knees to see them better.
Over and over, he read them.
Faster and faster.
Somewhere, he was aware of a deep moaning noise, coming rhythmically between gasps, and he realized that it was him – it was wrenching sobs that were convulsing his body – and the realization shook him.
He found that he couldn't fight it any more. He finally gave in, and the emotions crashed over him. He cried for all he had lost. He cried for all he had seen and done, for all those who had died and for all that would never be. He cried until his body ached with the effort and he thought he might come apart with it.
He had no idea how long he sat there like that, but eventually the sobs became hoarse moans, and then heaving sighs. Finally he was quiet.
That was then he felt it. He felt himself become lighter than air as the weight of all those years lifted itself from him. He was filled with a quiet peace and an intense relief, unlike any sensation he'd had in his life. Ginny had been right – of course she had. He had needed this. It was as if the pieces of his life slotted together before him and everything became acutely clear.
He knew what he needed to do.
He stood, wiped his face roughly, and marched off to find Ginny.
He didn't need to go far. Before he got halfway to the castle, he saw her running towards him.
"Harry!" she gasped, holding her chest.
"I was just coming to find you," he said, noticing his voice sounded clearer and surer than it ever had before.
"Me too…" she said, trying to catch her breath. "I need to talk to you."
"You're right. But before you say anything, let me just say this. You were right, Ginny. About it all. I did need to do this. I did need something to help me move on from the war, and this was it. I feel as if… as if it's been the worst day of my life and the best day, all at the same time."
She smiled at him, but he didn't let her interrupt his flow. He knew he needed to say this now, before the certainty he'd been filled with escaped him and the words were lost to him forever.
"But you were wrong, too. You said YOU'D moved on, but you haven't. You're still stuck in the day of the Battle. You can't move past the moment you thought I'd died, and I think you know it. Because if you had, you and I would be together by now." She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. "No, please – please, I have to say this. I hadn't moved past the war, but neither had you. And I've been waiting for you, and I've had faith that one day you would come back to me. But I realized today – at this very moment – that I can't wait any more. I AM going to live my life with love in each day, and it's going to be with you. I need you, Ginny. Not just your friendship, I need all of you. And you need me, too."
His breathing was coming to him as if he'd run for miles and his eyes searched hers for any indication that what he'd said had touched her in any way. The blood pounded in his ears and his hands shook.
He felt as if he was holding out his soul to her and was waiting to see what she would do with it.
"Are you finished?" she asked with a trace of amusement in her voice.
He nodded.
"When you were standing up there, saying all these things, it hit me. Everything you just said struck me in my very soul. You're right. I KNOW you're right. And I came out here because I couldn't go another minute without telling you that. I need you, too."
For an instant, his heart stopped beating, just before it flew out of his chest and soared into the sky. He didn't wait another second before taking the three steps to close the gap between them. He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him with every ounce of strength he had.
"I need you, Harry, I do!" she mumbled into his chest. "I'm sorry I took so long to tell you."
He shook his head and clung to her. "I'm sorry it came to this. I'm sorry I hurt you. And I promise, I will never – NEVER – leave you again!"
"I know. I know."
He put both hands on her face, and drew her away just far enough so he could look into her eyes.
The world fell away.
There was nothing but them.
He leaned forward until he pressed his lips to hers, gently enough so that he might've imagined it.
There was nothing in the world but this moment.
They were finally where they were meant to be.
