He sat there upon the stone wall, brilliant green eyes trained on the black velvet sky. Things always seemed so much simpler when he was apart of that sky, eternal ebony stretching on for ages. The sky knew neither time nor reality, it was a world of its own, held in place by those who ached to belong to it. Those like him.
Heaven's not enough
When you get there its just another blue
Harry Potter didn't remember how he'd come to habitually find solace on this high tower wall, but he did. Nights no longer bearable, beds no longer comfort. He'd read somewhere, at some point in time, that if one didn't get up and leave one's bed after restless sleep, that fellow would find himself subconsciously associating beds with sleepless nights. Needless to say, Harry wasn't too fond of his bed by now.
Heaven's not enough
You think you found it and it loses you
You thought of all there is
but not enough
But it didn't matter. None of it mattered, really. What was a soft, comfortable bed when the other four around you were vacant? The ghosts of their previous occupants still lingered close by, and at nights, Harry could very well feel and hear them. They'd talk to him sometimes, whispering words of reassurance and concern. They'd try to make him laugh with their god awful 'A Slytherin walked into a bar…' jokes. He'd play along until frustration and an ache that went deeper than bones would drive him from the room and up into his lofty perch in the Astronomy Tower.
And it loses you
In a cloud
It had been like this for months now, Harry contemplated. The emptiness of the castle grew steadily more suffocating and what was left of the tattered houses, slowly dwindled. Where once was pride and healthy competitiveness, lies lonely indifference. No one cared anymore. The smart ones transferred to Beauxbatons or Churningham over in Ireland, since Durmstrang was pretty much just an abandoned castle that stood on a mountain, now. But Harry stayed, it was expected. The Boy-Who-Lived-AGAIN was unofficially the poster child for Post-War Reconstruction. On the public front, Harry spouted words of a renewed world of peace and prosperity, without the shroud of darkness lingering on the outskirts of peoples' minds. Personally, Harry didn't see the point.
Honestly. What WAS the point? To save the world just to keep Death-Eaters and worse evils alive in cells? The people who deserved to see this moment, were lost. They'd sacrificed their lives so others could take advantage of theirs. And what of Harry? He'd always envisioned his end to be alongside Voldemort. Using his last vestiges of strength and Gryffindor courage to butcher the Dark Lord into a million irretrievable pieces.
Yes, there had been butchering, quite a lot in fact. But to both sides. What did a Death-Eater care if his companion was slaughtered right before his eyes? He was used to it by then…But not Harry.
There (there) almost everything is nothing as it seems
Where (where) you see the things you only want to see
I fly away (fly away)
To a higher place (higher place)
To say words I've been since,
to float away
to sigh,
to breath,
forget
The most painfully difficult thing he'd ever had to do, or ever will do, was to leave behind his fallen friends. His duty came first, and he knew they'd given their lives so he could follow through with it. And he did. Wonderfully, in fact. Lupin thought that he'd over done it a bit, but Harry didn't think so. He had just smiled, an eerie, dark sort of smile, when the Acting Minister couldn't even identify the slop of flesh and blood that used to be the Dark Lord. He simply took Harry's word for it.
With his friends gone, all those who he used to look to for hope and guidance, Harry found himself in unnerving and unknown territory. Yes, Lupin had offered to take him in once he'd graduated, but Harry knew the man had only suggested because he himself had no one to turn to. He was just as lost as Harry was. He'd taken to owling Harry at ungodly times, for no apparent reason what so ever. Lupin had jumped on the 'We'll look to Harry Potter! He'll know what to do!' bandwagon.
heaven's not enough
when I'm there I don't remember you
heaven's not enough
when you think you know and it uses you
No Fudge. No Dumbledore. No McGonagal. Not even Snape had made it through. No Ron. No Hermione. No Seamus, Dean, Neville, Weasleys (except Ginny, but she was put in St. Mungo's shortly after the Final Battle, and hasn't been out since), Lavender, Patil twins, or Pansy. Dennis had lost his older brother and was now living like a Muggle with his parents, trying to forget there ever was a wizarding world.
On some levels, Harry blamed himself. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't smart enough. He wasn't quick enough…
I saw so many things
but like a dream
always losing me
in a cloud
Had he just done this on his own, they'd all be alive. Well, most of them anyways. His housemates would've died with or without his help. The surprise attack at the Quidditch game was unforeseen by everyone. If Harry, Ron and his other team mates hadn't been up in the air at the time, they would've been slaughtered by the massive explosions as well. So, they lived, just to carry Hermione's mutilated body back to the infirmary and try to console Mr. And Mrs. Granger. That night, among three empty beds, Ron had run into Harry's arms and confessed his terror. The redhead had been in love with Hermione, but never got the chance to tell her so. Two nights later, and Harry's last friend would be gone.
The Weasleys were massacred in their sleep and one by one, all houses suffered staggering loses to their numbers. Many suspected Draco Malfoy to be the perpetrator, but when Vincent and Gregory turned up dead in Greenhouse Five, everyone steered clear of his devastated person.
It was because of this, perhaps, that Malfoy ended up fighting at Harry's side when the last remnants of the Good stormed Voldemort's freshly discovered lair over in Transylvania. His efforts were rewarded with blindness and the dependency on a cane for the remainder of his life.
Harry sighed, forcing all these thoughts to a halt in his battered mind. He'd lived through so much and yet, he was barely sixteen. Sixteen. What were sixteen year olds supposed to be like? Certainly not like this…
cause I couldn't cry
cause I turned away
when I see this go
didn't know the place
even yesterday
leaving far behind
The-Boy-Who-Lived simply did not want to be as such any longer. Why he, and not the others? They had had so much potential, so much spirit…He had done his job, done what he'd been destined to do…Why?…Why? Why? WHY!
Harry's trembling hands found his face, and hot, desperate tears soared through the bitter night air to land noiselessly upon the ground.
Why him? Why?
there's another life
in another dream
give it all away
for a memory
and a quiet life
He had a family waiting. A life to finish. A legacy to complete.
So, why him? What good was a stupid, depressed and numb teenager to a world of life and love and light?
and I felt the fate
on my coat tonight
still I know its gone
Harry was no good to anyone, not the beaten Remus Lupin and his sad smiles, not the blind Draco Malfoy and his attempt at the rivalry they used to share, not the orphaned Ginny Weasley and her incoherent mutterings about pickled toads and black chalkboards.
And not to Harry Potter and his decaying angel's wings.
but I know the pain
of leaving everything
far behind
He had nothing to live for, and nothing to die for. Harry's legs stood of their own accord.
He didn't want to face those who survived and now looked to him for Light. He couldn't bare to confront the souls of those he'd failed…
and if I could cry
He toed the line, leaned and found it was much like the first time he'd ever rode a broom. Adrenaline pulsed through him, bringing him to life for the first time in months.
if I could live
Wind howled past his ears and bit at his naked cheeks. His heart soared up to the ones he'd lost, and apologized.
one truth I did contain
For one brief glimmering moment, he heard their forgiveness, before his existence expired instantly.
The violent wind gave way to a gentle breeze and a sadness broke out over the minds of witches and wizards just then. The coal sky opened up and the gray clouds parted. Things always seemed so much simpler when apart of that sky, eternal ebony stretching on for ages. The sky knew neither time nor reality, it was a world of its own, held in place by those who ached to belong to it. Those like him.
heaven divine