Title: Something Worth Living For
Summary: Post-war fic. Harry thinks that he has nothing more to lose. A visit from an old friend proves him wrong.
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters.
Chapter Title: None
- - -
Harry stared at the ceiling with a blank look on his face, his back on his bed and hands tucked behind his head. He has been like this ever since the war. The Great Battle, some called it. Nobody could bring him out of the ice barrier he had created around him. Not Dean. Not Dumbledore. Nobody. He has fallen in too deep in his guilt to be pulled back up again.
Guilt. Of not being able to save his schoolmates, his best friends or the people he called family from Voldemort's wrath. Harry had killed him, yes, but Voldemort had brought almost the whole Hogwarts population down with him. The only ones surviving were Dean, Malfoy, Dumbledore, a Hufflepuff, Blaise Zabini and himself. Everyone else had been caught and killed in a blast Voldemort had created before he died.
Everyone else. Harry gave a bitter smile. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Remus, the staff, Hagrid. Everyone else except the few survivors. Including himself.
Ah yes. Himself. It seems the he always manages to come out of danger while others dies.
So, Voldemort was dead. Yet he can't seem to bring himself to celebrate and be happy lke the rest of the Wizarding World. The loss of the many lifes at Hogwarts was just too much to bear.
Suddenly, he has an idea. Since he has already lost everything he lived for, why not die to be with the ones he has held dear to his heart? Anyway, he had already fulfilled his destiny hasn't he?
Harry brightened up at that thought. He smiled to himself and started naming ways he could die.
He had been so caught up in the thought of seeing old friends again, he didn't notice a ghostly figure floating outside of his window who shook his head and entering his room. It was when a ghostly hand touched his right arm from behind that he seized his mutterings and stiffened.
Turning his head around slowly, he saw the ghost. It wasn't the fact that it was a ghost that shocked him; it was who the ghost was.
Floating there, in his room, next to his bed, was Remus.
His eyes widened. Then he sat up, still staring at the figure in front of him. At last, he shook his head and muttered to himself, "Remus? But no, it's not possible. He's dead. It must be an illusion."
"Harry, listen. I've only got 5 minutes, so please listen," Remus cut into his mutterings with a serious yet gentle voice. Harry just nodded his head wordlessly.
"Harry," Remus started, "you've got to stop wasting away like this and please stop thinking of dying. We, your parents, Sirius and everyone, are all watching over you and it hurts us to see you like this. Please, move on. Go on with your life." At this point, Remus's voice was pleading.
Harry shook his head stubbonly. "No. I can't go on with my life, not when you guys are gone. I can't do it. I have nothing left."
"No," Remus said as stubbornly, "you've still got Dumbledore and Dean. They care deeply for you. Dean cares for you as a friend and Dumbledore, as a grandson he has never had."
Harry stared. "Grandson he has never had?" Harry repeated disbelievingly. Remus nodded.
"Even Sirius could see how much he cared about you." Harry went silent and thought about what he said. As Remus started to fade, he said, "think about it, Harry. You say that you have nothing left but, in truth, you still have Dumbledore."
Harry remained silent as Remus disappeared. How could he had been so blind? How many times had Dumbledore mentored him? That he smiled at him like a grandfather would?
Harry smiled. So he still had something worth living for.
The End
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Have something to say? Have a critism to make? Have a suggestion on how to improve this? Review!
Summary: Post-war fic. Harry thinks that he has nothing more to lose. A visit from an old friend proves him wrong.
Pairings: None
Warnings: None
Disclaimers: I don't own the characters.
Chapter Title: None
- - -
Harry stared at the ceiling with a blank look on his face, his back on his bed and hands tucked behind his head. He has been like this ever since the war. The Great Battle, some called it. Nobody could bring him out of the ice barrier he had created around him. Not Dean. Not Dumbledore. Nobody. He has fallen in too deep in his guilt to be pulled back up again.
Guilt. Of not being able to save his schoolmates, his best friends or the people he called family from Voldemort's wrath. Harry had killed him, yes, but Voldemort had brought almost the whole Hogwarts population down with him. The only ones surviving were Dean, Malfoy, Dumbledore, a Hufflepuff, Blaise Zabini and himself. Everyone else had been caught and killed in a blast Voldemort had created before he died.
Everyone else. Harry gave a bitter smile. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Remus, the staff, Hagrid. Everyone else except the few survivors. Including himself.
Ah yes. Himself. It seems the he always manages to come out of danger while others dies.
So, Voldemort was dead. Yet he can't seem to bring himself to celebrate and be happy lke the rest of the Wizarding World. The loss of the many lifes at Hogwarts was just too much to bear.
Suddenly, he has an idea. Since he has already lost everything he lived for, why not die to be with the ones he has held dear to his heart? Anyway, he had already fulfilled his destiny hasn't he?
Harry brightened up at that thought. He smiled to himself and started naming ways he could die.
He had been so caught up in the thought of seeing old friends again, he didn't notice a ghostly figure floating outside of his window who shook his head and entering his room. It was when a ghostly hand touched his right arm from behind that he seized his mutterings and stiffened.
Turning his head around slowly, he saw the ghost. It wasn't the fact that it was a ghost that shocked him; it was who the ghost was.
Floating there, in his room, next to his bed, was Remus.
His eyes widened. Then he sat up, still staring at the figure in front of him. At last, he shook his head and muttered to himself, "Remus? But no, it's not possible. He's dead. It must be an illusion."
"Harry, listen. I've only got 5 minutes, so please listen," Remus cut into his mutterings with a serious yet gentle voice. Harry just nodded his head wordlessly.
"Harry," Remus started, "you've got to stop wasting away like this and please stop thinking of dying. We, your parents, Sirius and everyone, are all watching over you and it hurts us to see you like this. Please, move on. Go on with your life." At this point, Remus's voice was pleading.
Harry shook his head stubbonly. "No. I can't go on with my life, not when you guys are gone. I can't do it. I have nothing left."
"No," Remus said as stubbornly, "you've still got Dumbledore and Dean. They care deeply for you. Dean cares for you as a friend and Dumbledore, as a grandson he has never had."
Harry stared. "Grandson he has never had?" Harry repeated disbelievingly. Remus nodded.
"Even Sirius could see how much he cared about you." Harry went silent and thought about what he said. As Remus started to fade, he said, "think about it, Harry. You say that you have nothing left but, in truth, you still have Dumbledore."
Harry remained silent as Remus disappeared. How could he had been so blind? How many times had Dumbledore mentored him? That he smiled at him like a grandfather would?
Harry smiled. So he still had something worth living for.
The End
- - -
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