Harry Potter was having a nightmare. He saw flashes of green light, heard screams of pain, and felt a surge of heat in his chest. He woke up with a start, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. He looked around and saw that he was in his dormitory, surrounded by his fellow Gryffindors. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost time for breakfast. He got up and put on his robes, trying to shake off the memories of the night before.
He had just survived the most horrific ordeal of his life. He had faced Voldemort, the most evil wizard in history, and killed him with his own power. He had also killed dozens of Death Eaters, the followers of Voldemort who had tortured and murdered countless people. He had saved Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff champion, from certain death. He had done all this, and yet he felt no joy, no relief, no satisfaction. He felt only guilt, sorrow, and anger.
He felt guilty for the lives he had taken, even if they were his enemies. He felt sorrow for the loss of innocence, both his and others'. He felt anger for the betrayal he had suffered, from his friends, his school, and his world. He had no one to trust, no one to confide in, no one to comfort him. Except for one person.
Hermione Granger, his best and only friend, was waiting for him in the common room. She had been with him through everything, from the moment his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, to the moment he returned from the graveyard. She had never doubted him, never abandoned him, never hurt him. She had helped him, supported him, and loved him. She was the only person who understood him, the only person who cared for him, the only person who mattered to him.
She smiled when she saw him, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression. She knew he was suffering, and she wished she could take away his pain. She hugged him and whispered in his ear, "It's okay, Harry. I'm here for you. Always."
They walked to the Great Hall together, hand in hand. They ignored the stares, the whispers, and the glares of the other students and teachers. They had nothing to do with them, nothing to say to them, nothing to feel for them. They had each other, and that was enough.
They sat down at the Gryffindor table, where a plate of food was waiting for them. Harry had no appetite, but he forced himself to eat something, knowing that Hermione would worry if he didn't. He looked around and saw that the hall was decorated with banners and flags, celebrating the end of the Triwizard Tournament and the victory of Hogwarts. He felt a surge of disgust and resentment. How could they celebrate, when so much had happened, when so much had changed, when so much had been lost?
He saw Ron Weasley, his former friend, sitting across from him. Ron had been jealous of him, had accused him of cheating, had ignored him and mocked him for months. He had only apologized when Harry had faced the first task, a dragon, and had proven his courage and skill. Harry had rejected his apology, had told him to leave him alone, had cut him off from his life. He had no regrets, no remorse, no forgiveness. He hated Ron, and he hated everyone who had treated him like Ron.
He saw Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster, sitting at the staff table. Dumbledore had been distant from him, had avoided him and neglected him for the whole year. He had only spoken to him when he had to, when he had given him instructions or warnings or orders. He had never asked him how he felt, never offered him advice or guidance or support. He had treated him like a pawn, like a tool, like a weapon. He had no respect, no trust, no gratitude. He despised Dumbledore, and he despised everyone who had followed Dumbledore.
He saw Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Fleur had been arrogant, had looked down on him and everyone else, had acted like she was superior and entitled. She had only shown interest in him when he had saved her sister, Gabrielle, from the lake in the second task. She had kissed him on the cheek, had thanked him and praised him and flirted with him. He had rejected her advances, had told her to leave him alone, had pushed her away from his life. He had no interest, no attraction, no affection. He loathed Fleur, and he loathed everyone who had admired Fleur.
He saw Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion, sitting at the Slytherin table. Krum had been friendly, had respected him and complimented him, had acted like he was his equal and his rival. He had also shown interest in Hermione, had asked her to the Yule Ball, had danced with her and kissed her and made her happy. He had been the only person, besides Hermione, who had been nice to him, who had been honest with him, who had been loyal to him. He had no reason, no right, no cause. He envied Krum, and he envied everyone who had been like Krum.
He saw Cedric Diggory, the other Hogwarts champion, sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Cedric had been honorable, had helped him and competed with him, had acted like he was his ally and his friend. He had also reached the Triwizard Cup with him, had agreed to share the glory with him, had been transported with him to the graveyard. He had been killed by Voldemort, but Harry had saved him, had brought him back to life, had brought him back to Hogwarts. He had been the only person, besides Hermione, who had been with him, who had seen him, who had known him. He had no fault, no blame, no guilt. He pitied Cedric, and he pitied everyone who had loved Cedric.
He saw himself, reflected in a goblet of water. He saw a boy, with messy black hair, green eyes, and a lightning-shaped scar. He saw a champion, who had faced three tasks, a dragon, a lake, and a maze. He saw a hero, who had killed a dark lord, a horde of followers, and a bunch of objects. He saw a god, who had fire in his veins, metal in his hands, and power in his soul. He saw a monster, who had blood on his conscience, hate in his heart, and death in his wake. He saw a stranger, who had nothing to live for, nothing to hope for, nothing to dream of. He saw himself, and he saw nothing.
He looked away and saw Hermione, looking at him with concern and compassion. She saw a boy, who had suffered too much, who had endured too much, who had sacrificed too much. She saw a champion, who had done his best, who had overcome his fears, who had proven his worth. She saw a hero, who had saved a life, who had fought a battle, who had won a war. She saw a god, who had fire in his eyes, metal in his smile, and power in his touch. She saw a friend, who had been there for her, who had cared for her, who had loved her. She saw Harry, and she saw everything.
She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. He felt a spark of warmth, a flicker of light, a whisper of hope. He smiled and squeezed back, feeling a surge of gratitude, a burst of joy, a roar of love. He had Hermione, and that was everything.
They finished their breakfast and left the Great Hall, heading to the grounds. They wanted to get away from the crowd, from the noise, from the chaos. They wanted to be alone, to be free, to be happy.
They walked to the lake, where they had spent many hours together, talking, laughing, and studying. They sat under a tree, where they had shared their first kiss, a kiss that had changed everything, a kiss that had sealed their bond. They lay down on the grass, where they had held each other, comforted each other, and loved each other. They looked at the sky, where they had seen the stars, the moon, and the firework. They looked at each other, where they saw the past, the present, and the future.
They talked about their plans, their dreams, their hopes. They decided to leave Hogwarts, to leave Britain, to leave the wizarding world. They had nothing to stay for, nothing to wait for, nothing to fight for. They had everything to go for, everything to explore, everything to live for. They wanted to see the world, to learn new things, to meet new people. They wanted to be together, to be happy, to be free.
They packed their bags, took their wands, and left their letters. They wrote to Dumbledore, to Ron, to Fleur, to Krum, to Cedric. They thanked them, apologized to them, wished them well. They wrote to the world, to the people, to the history. They said goodbye, farewell, and never again.
They took the train, the boat, and the plane. They went to France, to Italy, to Greece. They saw the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, the Parthenon. They went to Egypt, to India, to China. They saw the pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall. They went to Australia, to Japan, to America. They saw the Sydney Opera House, the Mount Fuji, the Statue of Liberty. They went to places they had never heard of, places they had never seen, places they had never imagined. They saw wonders, miracles, and beauty.
They learned languages, cultures, and arts. They spoke French, Italian, and Greek. They learned history, philosophy, and literature. They read Homer, Dante, and Shakespeare. They learned magic, science, and technology. They studied alchemy, astronomy, and engineering. They learned everything they could, everything they wanted, everything they needed.
They met people, friends, and allies. They met muggles, squibs, and wizards. They met people who were kind, who were smart, who were brave. They met people who were different, who were curious, who were open. They met people who accepted them, who respected them, who loved them. They met people who were like them, who were unlike them, who were with them.
They lived their lives, their adventures, their stories. They faced challenges, dangers, and enemies. They overcame obstacles, traps, and curses. They solved mysteries, puzzles, and riddles. They found treasures, secrets, and wonders. They created memories, legends, and myths.
They loved each other, their souls, their hearts. They kissed, hugged, and cuddled. They laughed, cried, and smiled. They supported, encouraged, and inspired. They trusted, understood, and respected. They gave, received, and shared. They loved, loved, and loved.
They were Harry and Hermione, and they were everything.