Did you say everything you could?
Do the things that you thought you would?
Did it ever occur to you that this could be your final day?
Did you go where you wanted to go?
Learn about what you wanted to know?
Did you ever really give something back, instead of always taking it?
Did you find what you're looking for?
Did you get your foot in the door?
Can you look at yourself and feel proud of all the things you've done?
Did you inspire the ones that you knew?
Make a difference in those that knew you?
Did you finally figure out what it is that makes us who we are today?
Don't waste another day
You never know when you'll get one
Don't waste another day
To do anything you haven't done
Did You?—Hoobestank
Chapter Three Losing the WillHarry awoke the next morning on the couch. He blinked at the dazzling sunlight filtering in through the curtains, then breathed deep and stretched. That was the best night's sleep he'd had in a long time. No dreams, no beatings, just pure, uninterrupted sleep. Harry stopped mid-yawn. A wonderful smell wafted into the room from the kitchen and for a moment he expected to hear Mrs. Weasley's voice urging him to come into the kitchen and eat with the rest of the family.
Ruffling his hair, he stumbled into the kitchen. The most magnificent smelling foods were cooking on the stove and Ginny stood over them, casually waving her wand to keep things going and reading a book.
"Morning, Ginny," Harry said, suddenly aware that he was still in his pajamas. "Who's this feast for?" he asked casually.
"It's your day-late birthday breakfast," she answered as she scooped some sausages onto a plate and set them on the table. Within minutes, Bill and Ron came downstairs, no doubt drawn by the smell of the food.
When at last every plate had been emptied, Ginny suggested that now was the time to give Harry his presents.
"Me first!" she said, taking Harry's hands and pulling him from his seat. She put one hand over his eyes and used the other to guide Harry into the living room. "Look," she whispered. What Harry saw in front of him nearly made him cry. On the clock, a new hand bearing his name had been added.
"You're part of the family now. You're staying here! Dumbledore's already said its ok!"
"Thank you," Harry breathed, staring at the clock while Ginny hugged him.
"And now for ours," Bill said, turning towards the staircase. They climbed until they reached Fred and George's room. At least, it had been their room at one point.
When Ron opened the door however, walls of red and gold greeted Harry. A bed blanketed with a warm-looking red comforter, a mahogany dresser, and a desk lined the walls.
"You couldn't very well sleep on that couch now that you're a part of this family now, could you?"
Harry threw his arms around Ron's neck. This was it... He belonged to a family now. Sure no one was really related to him, but two of his best friends were living under the same roof as him. That was good enough for him.
"Quidditch anyone?" suggested Bill.
Yes I know that Harry is the Seeker in Quidditch but since only four people are playing this particular match, the positions of Seeker and Beater have been taken out. Just thought you'd like to know so I don't get too many responses telling me how dumb I am for not knowing that simple bit of information. Anyways... back to the story!
Harry hadn't flown since school had ended and he was glad to be back. He closed his eyes and let the wind whip his hair back. Flying had always calmed his nerves like nothing else. Now was no different. The weight of his life seemed to lift off his shoulders as he soared high above the ground.
Now was not the time to be calm though. Harry streaked toward the end of the Weasley's makeshift pitch with the Quaffle under his arm. Nearing the hoops, Harry slowed and faked a left. When Bill fell for it, Harry threw the Quaffle in.
"Score!" he shouted, pumping the air with his fist, a grin lighting up his features for the first time in what felt like forever.
All of the sudden, he felt his scar burn white hot. He clapped his hands to his forehead and his Firebolt dropped a few feet. Luckily, Harry knew enough by now, with six years of experience on brooms, to head for ground. He jumped off and fell onto the grass on all fours.
It was a good thing he'd reached the ground. Harry was now shaking so badly that he probably would have slid off his broom had he remained in the air and, even worse than that, he was going to be sick. Everything he'd eaten for breakfast began to come back up. Harry clamped a hand over his mouth and leaving his Firebolt in the field, he dashed inside to the Weasley's bathroom.
Leaning over the toilet, Harry retched. He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and knocks on the door. Still, Harry knelt there; dry heaving for a while, before getting up and washing his face and mouth. He looked in the mirror and was surprised at how pale his face was. He lifted one hand in front of his eyes and watched it shake like a leaf. What was happening to him? He breathed in deep, and then opened the door to find Ginny, leaning against a wall, worry etched across her face.
"I'm fine," he answered, swaying a little.
"Really?"
He started to nod, but instead shook his head before passing out into Ginny's outstretched arms.
"Bill! Ron!" She yelled, sliding to the floor with Harry in her arms. "Help me!" Ginny felt Harry's forehead. It was cold and clammy except for his scar, which was burning madly.
Finally, footsteps were heard in the kitchen, then running up the stairs. They came to a halt next to Ginny and Harry.
"What happened?" Ron asked, kneeling next to her and attempting to wake his best friend.
"I don't know. He just passed out," she said frantically.
Harry heard screams. He looked around him and found himself lying on the ground near the Ministry of Magic Building. He sat up, shaking his head to clear the fog that engulfed his mind. Slowly, as his eyes focused, people came into view. They were wearing black cloaks and surrounding two figures on the ground.
"Death Eaters," Harry thought with disgust.
Harry crept closer, making sure to stay out of sight just in case he could be seen in this vision. When he was about fifty feet away from the group, he stopped and gasped. He recognized the people on the ground. They were Auror Kingsley Shackelbolt and ex-Auror Alastor Moody, both prominent members of the Order.
Suddenly, one of the Death Eaters began to speak. Harry cringed at the voice as he realized he knew who it was. Bellatrix Lestrange was addressing the two forlorn men on the ground.
"Well, well, well. Looky hear. It's Mad-Eye Moody and Mad-Eye in training no doubt." Laughs from the Death Eaters echoed in the quiet streets. Harry shook with rage as the women who killed his godfather tormented his friends on the ground. He was suddenly filled with an almost uncontrollable urge to rush at her and kill her with his own two hands. He gritted his teeth and held himself back knowing that even if this was a dream, he'd never get anywhere near her with all these Death Eaters around.
Harry watched Kingsley spit at Lestrange, and silently he rejoiced that the man was fighting back. Bellatrix did not take kindly to the defiance and made sure Kingsley and Moody understood that. "You'll learn some respect. Crucio!"
Kingsley and Moody writhed on the ground but uttered no sound. As they did so, Harry felt his own scar sear with pain again, and a sensation he'd felt too many times in his young life already coursed through his body. He felt as if he were burning from the inside out and every fiber of his body ached. Then, as suddenly as it all started, it all stopped. Harry lay panting on the ground, unseen, a few yards from the mob.
The Death Eaters were clearly disappointed with the display. They had wanted screams and pleading. Kingsley and Moody were not going to give them that satisfaction and apparently they were not going to be used for anything else.
"Very well then," said Bellatrix. "Good-bye. Avada Kedavra!"
"NO!" Harry screamed, sitting straight up,
"Harry!" exclaimed Ginny.
Harry put his hands over his face and tilted his head back against the wall. He hugged his legs to his chest and rested his forehead on his knees. How could they be dead? Harry heard someone kneel beside him and put their hands on his shoulders. He looked up and saw Bill looking intently down at him.
"Did you see something?" he asked gently. Harry nodded miserably. "What was it?"
"Moody and Kingsley were caught at the Ministry. They're...They're dead," he whispered, ignoring the faces of the people around him and staring down at his knees.
"Are you sure that's what you saw?" Bill asked looking down with worry at Harry. Again Harry nodded. Bill stood up quickly and looked to Ron and Ginny.
"I'm going to Grimmauld Place. Take care of Harry," he said and with a crack he was gone.
"Harry, are you okay?" Ron asked, pulling Harry to his feet.
He shook his head and ran back into the bathroom. Harry dropped to his knees again; only this time, he didn't feel sick. He just needed to be alone. He sat on the edge of the tub and gripped his hair in his fingers. A sob tore from his throat and hot tears cascaded down his cheeks.
More people were dying. How could this have happened? Moody was the most cautious person he knew and yet he'd somehow been caught. What was his world coming to?
"I'm going to end all this," his whispered.
"Please, Harry, eat something." Ginny tried to persuade Harry to eat, but he flat out refused. Ron had tried his hand at pleading with his friend, but he had been unsuccessful. He'd sent in Ginny in hopes that his sister could talk some sense into his best friend.
"For me?" Ginny pleaded. Harry glared at her and grabbed the bowl. He drained it and handed the dish back to her with an "are-you-happy-now?" look on his face.
She set the dish on Harry's bedside table and sat down on the bed next to him. She felt his forehead and his cheeks. He no longer felt cold and clammy. Actually, he was burning up.
Harry closed his eyes under her cool touch. Her soft hands felt wonderful on his forehead. He reached up and held her hand in place. "Harry, you're burning up." She removed her hand from his face, but a wet rag quickly replaced it.
Harry stared at her as she wandered around his new room, admiring his things and reminiscing about his past years at Hogwarts. She looked so different from the little girl Harry had known in his early days at school. Somehow they all looked different, like what they had seen in the past seven years had changed them physically as well as mentally.
After a few minutes, Harry fell into a light sleep and Ginny was able to slip out of his room. She wandered to Ron's room, and found the light still on. She knocked quietly and entered. Her brother sat at his desk, head in hands, pouring over a lengthy essay. His head snapped up as his sister entered the room.
"I just wanted to tell you that he's finally asleep," she said, closing the door behind her.
"Thanks, Gin," he said, a weary smile playing across his lips.
"Is Bill home yet?" Ginny asked.
Ron sighed and shook his head. "I can't help but wonder if Harry's dream might have been right." He met his sister's gaze. "Get some sleep," he told her, ushering her out the door. "I'm sure everything will be fixed by morning."
As midnight crept closer, Harry woke with a start. He lay in bed a moment, listening for sounds of movement from anyone else in the house. He heard nothing. Ignoring the protests from his aching body, Harry rolled out of bed and padded down to the kitchen. As he felt his way through the dark room, his foot caught one of the chairs and it flipped over with a crash.
Harry stiffened and prayed no one had heard the clatter. When no one came running down the stairs, he breathed again. Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Harry headed for the drawer of cutlery near the sink. Grabbing the nearest knife, he set the sharp edge against his wrist and took a deep breath.
