2
Harry felt as though his head would split in two. A deep and dull throb radiated through his skull. Headaches had become a frequent occurrence for him, such that he could not imagine his morning routine without one. Perhaps they were as a result of his awful sleeping position on his much preferred couch as opposed to bed. His formative years with the Dursleys had moulded him to the effect that he found something quite unsettling about having a large room and bed all to himself.
The last of the embers in the fireplace had burned themselves. He rubbed the back of his neck with a groan and sat upright. His hair sprung in all directions, exaggerating his already curly texture. He reached for his spectacles and settled them over the bridge of his nose.
His gaze fixed on the fireplace and it instantly began to burn anew.
Harry conjured a pen and two pieces of parchment. On one, he made short work of inviting Hermione and Ron to the leaky cauldron on Sunday evening for a catch up. That he missed them terribly as well, and would be sure to remind Kingsley (should the occasion arise) that he was certain of his decision, in spite of her determined requests to change his mind.
On the other parchment, he wrote to Teddy; that he missed the boy and would be sure to pay him a visit. That they would go for a ride on his old broomstick (if he could remember where he had last placed it). And yes, that he would one day get a wand (although he could not promise a replica of his own). And that he was honoured to be the recipient of his first owl and looked forward to his next letter.
Harry settled the letters on the table and groggily rose to his feet. He rolled his neck and bit back a wince. Not only did his head ache but so did the rest of his body. He lifted his wand from the spot on the table and waved it at the kitchen. The kitchen moved to life as pans flew from the cabinets and onto the stove. Utensils clanked and chopped vegetables, eggs cracked open onto a heated pan and sizzled. Harry abandoned the kitchen to the restroom to clean himself. When he returned, his meal had been prepared and kept warm for him with a fresh cup of coffee on the side.
A light tap came from the window. Harry grabbed a slice of toast and walked over to find an owl struggling to fit the newspaper through the hole he'd created. If the creature simply turned the scroll horizontally it wouldn't nearly struggle as much. He would've laughed if his head didn't pulsate as badly as it did.
Harry broke a bit of toast, and sat by the windowsill to coax the owl to his arm. He exchanged the newspaper for the bread. The bird shook its feathers, whether in appreciation for the food or annoyance at the size of the piece in its beak in comparison to the slice in his hand.
"Wait here," Harry settled the bird on the windowsill and walked across the room to collect the letters he had written. After clear instruction as to whom the letters should be delivered to, he tied them to the owl's foot. It shook its feathers again.
"Oh, alright." Harry shrugged annoyed, and offered the bigger piece of toast. Astonishingly, it greedily accepted it into its already full beak and then took off, scattering dark feathers in its wake.
He dusted the crumbs of toast onto his pants and then uncurled the newspaper. Headlines from the Daily Prophet zoomed across the pages. He briefly skimmed the moving images and headlines as he approached the kitchen and took his seat. He settled the paper at his side and sipped from his coffee.
He deliberately skipped over the moving image of himself writing on his blackboard. In the image, his hair appeared far more maniacal than he had ever remembered it ever looking. The headline read: 'The boy who lived: Auror to Professor. Inside scoop on his reception at Hogwarts by Rita Skeeter'.
'As if the day could not get any worse.' he thought. A vein pulsed at his temple. He was surprised she still had a job with the Daily Prophet. Then again, roaches never die. He skimmed over the article and bit into a slice of toast.
'After a successful tenure with the Auror office, Harry Potter now turns to educating young witches and wizards. Perhaps, after all these years, he remains haunted by the ghost of his past. More sinisterly, is the imposition of the 'boy who lived' by the ministry an attempt to meddle in affairs…'
"The ghost of my past?." he guffawed and aggressively flipped the page. He bit into his toast with a loud crunch.
'Legislation governing rights for house elves. Miss Hermione Granger appeals to the Wizengamot advocating for the liberation of house elves.'
Harry flipped the page and took a sip of his coffee.
'Nine years later- The living dead.'
Harry pulled the newspaper closer. The article spoke of patients at St Mungo's Hospital, with particular emphasis on those who suffered with lifelong injuries as a result of the Wizarding War. It detailed some of the worst physical injuries from the battle at Hogwarts.
Naturally, the disabilities varied, some had lost limbs or their sight, while others had lost whole internal organs through irreversible jinxes. The article attached a blurred image of a man laid on a bed with a pipe through his mouth and down his throat. The man's chest rose and fell mechanically. Both of his lungs had been eviscerated and he would likely spend the rest of his life in St Mungos.
The article went on to explain that the same patient had made multiple suicidal attempts while unattended and remains under constant supervision.
It was no surprise that the number of persons exhibiting depressive or anxious tendencies soared in spite of the peace brought by the end of the war. Any expectation of an immediate return to normal was ridiculous and yet everyone seemed to think all was as it used to be. The article concluded with an address for persons who believed a witch or wizard was in need of aid to contact them.
Harry stared at the image of the man on the bed. His skin was sickly pale and his hands hung from his bedside. The woman at his side, dressed in a plain white uniform, sat solemnly with her head down and watched the man laid before her.
He had once been a boy who fought for what he believed was right, a boy who walked through the corridors of Hogwarts with dreams of his own.
And all were taken from him.
Sometimes it was difficult to remember that they had been children themselves. That they were thrust into a battle that none of them deserved to be in. That they should have been protected by the very adults who hid behind their spells and let children nearly have their age fight on their behalf.
That some of their friends died and those who remained were irreversibly changed.
Harry's coffee turned to ash in his mouth. He pushed his plate away and grabbed his wand and robe. He needed air before the urge to retch overwhelmed him. He followed the quiet path down the grounds to Hagrids hut and stretched to knock.
The door swung before his knuckles could reach the wood. He startled and fell a step.
"Harry!" His old friend called.
"Hagrid." He smiled and stepped down. Hagrid had a satchel over his shoulder. "Busy?"
"Naw, was just going to feed the thestrals. Glad ter see you Harry. Are ya here for a chat or work?" His eyes narrowed on his former student,
"Bit of both, really," he replied with a soft smile. "Do you know where I can find some cornish pixies. Well- just one, preferably."
Hagrid stepped down the stairs, Harry followed at his side towards the forest. He sunk his hands into his robe as Hagrid stroked his heavy beard.
"Cornish pixies ey," he mused and then snapped his fingers, "I thought I saw a few buzzing around a well not too deep into the forest. Heard they've been causing all sorts of mischief for the centaurs. Might still be in there, the little buggers."
By midday, Harry had found the pixie infested well and caught one. The well contained five swarms of the creatures, an amount that concerned Hagrid, for good reason. And so, they rehoused the swarms in different areas. They were menaces in a single swarm but multiple swarms in one place was pandemonium waiting to happen.
[pb]
Hagrid's deep guttural laugh filled the air as the fireplace crackled beside them. Harry wiped the tear from the corner of his eye and lifted his cup (sized to jug-like proportions) of whiskey infused coffee, to his lips. It was sweet to taste and bitter to swallow. He struggled not to twist his face while his cheeks burned. Indeed, Hagrid's brews were something else with every sip seemingly stronger than the last.
"Surely we weren't that difficult, as students, I mean?" Harry asked and settled the mug on the giant table. Fang, who laid closest to the fire raised his head slightly and then sank down to sleep. Harry stroked his greying fur and scratched behind his ear.
"Granted, at the time, I didn't know much of anything about teaching. Was making all sorts 'a mistakes." Hagrid sighed, seeming to reminisce. "Still am,"
"You are a good teacher, Hagrid. Almost every student taking Care of Magical creatures thinks so." Harry tried to reassure him. Hagrid offered a weak smile.
They sat in silence, Harry wondered what to say or whether he should say something to fill the emptiness. He sensed the man was distressed for reasons not limited to his teaching woes. Hagrid swallowed loudly and refilled his mug with coffee and a generous dash of alcohol. Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he watched the half-giant sniffle. His cheeks burned and eyes glistened.
"Hagrid?"
"She's gone," he barely whispered. Hagrid chugged the contents of his mug with deep gulps, like a thirsty man offered a glass of water.
"Who is?"
"Olympe." his voice quivered slightly as h rolled his eyes, "Told me she needed some space."
Harry sucked his teeth. He knew very little about what sort of words to use to comfort a heavy heart, but, he knew the pain of a broken heart. And so, he reached for the pitcher of alcohol with both hands (unsurprised at how heavy it was for him) and filled Hagrid's cup to the brim.
The man sniffed and nodded in thanks. Harry gave him a hard shoulder pat and raised his cup to offer a solemn cheer, they clanked their mugs and drank. Hagrid cried silently as the tears that traced his cheeks disappeared into his beard.
Hagrid passed out on the table not too long after his tenth mug. The man murmured and snored deeply. Harry watched him silently as he drained the rest of his cup. His cheeks burned and he no longer hid his face twist as he forced himself to swallow the remains of his drink. He settled the mug on the table and pushed from his seat. He pulled a cover from the couch and draped it over Hagrids shoulders. The man grunted and then snored.
Harry reached for the caged pixie he had caught. It had long since fallen asleep. It curled itself into a ball with its elongated ears over its eyes. It stirred at the sudden jolt of its cage but remained asleep. Harry left Hagrids hut and walked along the moonlit path to the castle. He checked his watch, it was close to midnight. Harry saw his breath in the air as he walked.
His heart broke for the gentle giant, breakups were never easy to endure. He remembered drowning his emotions with a bottle of firewhiskey. And the momentary euphoria where the pain would disappear and he'd be consumed with irrational joy, and then something would remind him of her. Whether it was the way the flames danced in the fireplace or some private joke they'd shared or the thought of her smile, and he would come undone.
Ginny had been the love of his life for while. Though he never truly understood his feelings for her until later, she had seemed sure of him. She'd stood by him even when she could not physically be at his side. They'd worked hard to fit the pieces of what they had after the war, but she wasn't the same girl, and he wasn't the same boy. They'd loved each other as best as they could but something irreplaceable had been lost.
No matter how many times they thought to substitute it with earth shattering sex. No matter how tightly she gripped him, no matter how deeply her nails dug into his spine or how desperately he clung to her as they rode orgasm after orgasm, nothing seemed to make that void between them disappear.
She had been the one to break up with him first. They had sex under the promise that it would be the 'last time'. It was not.
In fact, there were so many 'last time's they eventually stopped saying it. Eventually, they got back together. And then, she broke up with him a second time. To neither persons surprise, they got together again, in a flurry of torn clothing and passion and promises between breathless moans, that it was the 'last time, I swear'.
And then he broke up with her.
She'd struck him. Her slap hurt far more emotionally than it had physically. She'd yelled at him but he couldn't recall a single word she'd said. His cheek stung from her touch though he felt it beneath his flesh. He watched her hands gesticulate around her as her hair thrashed, her lips moved fast but no sound reach him.
"Get out." he'd said to her. At the time, his voice sounded foreign to him. The fire in her eyes had gone, replaced by something else. They'd stared at each other for an eternity and then she was gone.
When Harry arrived at his chambers, his hand stilled on the door knob. Someone was in his quarters.
He couldn't imagine a student being audacious enough to enter his chamber. Nor an educator at such hour. Harry dug into his robe for his wand and slowly turned the knob.
He cautiously entered the room with his wand outstretched. He settled the cage onto the floor, careful not to wake the pixie.
He rounded the corner to his living room and faltered.
"Last time," she smiled weakly with red cheeks. Her eyes were tear stained. "I swear."
When Harry awoke, he was naked and alone. Half of the bed had been neatly made and the stretch of emptiness seemed larger than it had ever been. He hadn't bothered to ask Ginny what had bothered her, then again, he doubted she would have told him had he asked.
A low vibration inside his bedside drawer summoned his attention. He reached into the drawer and pulled out the cellphone he had bought a while ago.
'Good day Mr H.J Potter. This is a Reminder that your appointment with Dr Evans is at 10:45 today. Reply 1 to confirm or 2 to cancel your appointment'