Word: Light
It's dark. That's all I can focus on at first, the darkness. There is no pain- I can't even feel my arms or legs, or any of my body for that matter. There's nothing, just blankness.
I don't know how long I'm there, staring blindly into emptiness, but gradually it starts to get lighter again. A few sparks flicker in the gloom, illuminating my memories.
The first flash shows Grimauld Place, my old home. I'm showing Harry the sprawling family tree, pointing out the burn-mark where I used to be.
Flash. I'm sat in the kitchen near Christmas, waiting for news about Mr Weasley, watching the other Weasleys helplessly.
Flash. I'm talking to Harry in the fire, listening to him describing his dad playing with a Snitch.
Flash. I'm duelling with my cousin Bellatrix, doing my best to protect Harry.
It's strange. They always say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Nobody ever said it happened after you were dead.
It's not so dark now, at least. All these memories are dancing around me, hovering in the air like glittering Christmas baubles. I watch them for a while.
I'm dead. It seems obvious, really, but I'm surprised that I'm not more shocked. I always thought that I'd live forever, but then doesn't everyone?
I should be worried. I can't do anything to help the fight against Voldemort, not if I'm stuck here. Wherever here is. I can't keep Harry safe anymore. But somehow, it doesn't seem to matter that much now. I'm dead. I'm over it.
But I don't have to be, I realise. I could go back, I could see Harry again. I'm not stupid; I've met a few ghosts before. They were allowed to stay, so maybe I could as well.
The light seems a little brighter now. It seems to be waiting for me to decide something.
I wouldn't be able to help much, of course, but had I really been much help when I was alive? Wouldn't it be enough just to see Harry, to give him some advice every now and then?
No. It wouldn't. I'd want to do more than that, and it would drive me insane not being able to. Being shackled up in Grimauld Place was bad enough, but to always be there, seeing but never touching, hearing but never helping- no. That would be worse than not being there at all.
The light is getting much brighter now, so bright that it would hurt to look at if I still had eyes.
I'm sorry, Harry. I wish I could be there for you.
It seems to be expanding, pulling me in. And I realise with a sharp thrill that I'm going to see James.
It's dark. That's all I can focus on at first, the darkness. There is no pain- I can't even feel my arms or legs, or any of my body for that matter. There's nothing, just blankness.
I don't know how long I'm there, staring blindly into emptiness, but gradually it starts to get lighter again. A few sparks flicker in the gloom, illuminating my memories.
The first flash shows Grimauld Place, my old home. I'm showing Harry the sprawling family tree, pointing out the burn-mark where I used to be.
Flash. I'm sat in the kitchen near Christmas, waiting for news about Mr Weasley, watching the other Weasleys helplessly.
Flash. I'm talking to Harry in the fire, listening to him describing his dad playing with a Snitch.
Flash. I'm duelling with my cousin Bellatrix, doing my best to protect Harry.
It's strange. They always say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die. Nobody ever said it happened after you were dead.
It's not so dark now, at least. All these memories are dancing around me, hovering in the air like glittering Christmas baubles. I watch them for a while.
I'm dead. It seems obvious, really, but I'm surprised that I'm not more shocked. I always thought that I'd live forever, but then doesn't everyone?
I should be worried. I can't do anything to help the fight against Voldemort, not if I'm stuck here. Wherever here is. I can't keep Harry safe anymore. But somehow, it doesn't seem to matter that much now. I'm dead. I'm over it.
But I don't have to be, I realise. I could go back, I could see Harry again. I'm not stupid; I've met a few ghosts before. They were allowed to stay, so maybe I could as well.
The light seems a little brighter now. It seems to be waiting for me to decide something.
I wouldn't be able to help much, of course, but had I really been much help when I was alive? Wouldn't it be enough just to see Harry, to give him some advice every now and then?
No. It wouldn't. I'd want to do more than that, and it would drive me insane not being able to. Being shackled up in Grimauld Place was bad enough, but to always be there, seeing but never touching, hearing but never helping- no. That would be worse than not being there at all.
The light is getting much brighter now, so bright that it would hurt to look at if I still had eyes.
I'm sorry, Harry. I wish I could be there for you.
It seems to be expanding, pulling me in. And I realise with a sharp thrill that I'm going to see James.
