Harry
Potter raced from one hot spot to the next, helping his friends battle the seemingly endless army of Death Eaters. He cast a Bone-Removing Curse at a Death
Eater, then noticed Dennis Creevey was injured and
trapped underneath some debris. The
battle moved away from Dennis long enough for Harry to try to free him. Blood was running from Dennis’s ear, probably
from a bomb the Flying Squad had dropped nearby mere moments before.
“Come on, mate, let’s get you out of there,” Harry said as he Levitated the
debris from the explosion off of his friend.
He pulled on Dennis’s arm, trying to get him to his feet and away from
the battlefield before the fighting surged back toward them. With another tug, Harry thought he’d
succeeded, but he hadn’t got Dennis up.
He looked in horror at the bloody arm he was holding. There was Dennis’s hand, so talented with a
Beater’s bat, but the arm ended in a ragged stump just above his bicep.
Harry
shuddered and dropped the arm, then grabbed Dennis around the chest and lifted,
trying to pull him behind a nearby tree.
“Hang on, Dennis, I've got you.!” Harry shrieked and dropped his friend when he
realized Dennis’s legs had stayed where they were. Dennis lay in bloody pieces, his normally
cheerful young face stilled in a shocked expression.
Harry
took shaky steps away from Dennis, forcing himself to get back to the
battle. But as he ran over the hill to
join the D.A. members fighting there, he saw Fred Weasley lying on the ground,
his broom broken under him, his chest a gaping hole, his eyes open and staring
right at Harry.
“No! Fred, no!” Harry dropped to his knees beside his
friend’s body, his heart pounding so hard, he thought it would burst out of his
chest. He looked around for George. Surely George wouldn’t be far away with Fred
hurt! No, Fred wasn’t hurt. Fred was dead. Where was George? He looked around frantically. Oh no.
There was George, his body sprawled on the ground about ten feet
away.
“George! I’m here, mate! Hang on!”
Harry ran to George, his feet slipping on the gore-covered ground as he
slid to a stop, hoping to help his friend.
But no, George had a deep bloody gash across his stomach, his intestines
oozing out of the hole. Like Fred,
George was undeniably dead.
Harry
fell to his knees beside George, a scream building up inside him. “NO!”
“Harry
Potter, sir! Wake up! Harry Potter, sir!”
Something
was shaking Harry’s shoulder with a painfully tight grip. Harry swam out of the depths of his nightmare
to see huge green eyes staring into his.
Dobby was nose-to-nose with him, his ears drooping, a
worried expression on his face.
“Harry
Potter, sir! Please wake up!”
“I’m . .
. awake, Dobby. Thanks.” Harry sat up and held his head in his
hands. His room seemed to be spinning
around him. He blinked, swallowed hard,
then got out of bed and wobbled on shaking legs to the bathroom, where he threw
up until there was nothing left inside him.
He felt a damp flannel being placed carefully on the back of his neck.
“Thanks.” He turned to see who was helping him and saw
Dobby standing nearby, wringing his hands.
“Is Harry
Potter ill, sir? Did dinner disagree
with Harry Potter’s stomach? Does Harry
Potter want some ginger tea, or—”
Harry
waved his hand to stop Dobby from saying more.
Just hearing the words “ginger tea” made him nauseous all over
again. “Nightmare. Just a nightmare.”
The elf
shook his head. “Not just a nightmare,
sir. A terrible nightmare.”
Harry
couldn’t agree more, but if he said that, he’d feel obligated to talk about his
dream, and he really didn’t want to do that just now. He took a deep breath and hoped his stomach
would quiet down soon.
“I’ll be
all right, Dobby. Thanks for waking
me. Sorry I disturbed your sleep.” Harry straightened and took the flannel off
of his neck, then wiped the sweat off his face with it. He turned to look at the house-elf. “Did you hear me all the way down in your
quarters?”
Dobby
took a step back, a guilty look on his face.
“No, Harry Potter sir. Dobby stays outside Harry Potter’s room at
night in case he is needed.”
Harry
frowned, his brain still muzzy from sleep.
“Needed for what?”
“Harry
Potter has terrible nightmares and has trouble waking up on his own. Dobby is glad he is here to help Harry
Potter, sir.”
“How long
have you been doing this? And how did
you know about my nightmares?”
Dobby
wrung his hands again before speaking.
“Last night, Dobby hears a noise upstairs when he gets up to start
breakfast. When Dobby comes upstairs to
find the noise, he hears Harry Potter sir screaming in his sleep. Dobby wakes Harry Potter enough to stop the
dream but Harry Potter doesn’t wake up all the way. Now Dobby keeps watch outside Harry Potter’s
door in case he has bad dreams again.
Dobby calls Harry Potter’s name a long time to wake him tonight.”
Harry
felt even worse now than he had after waking up from the nightmare. The house-elf was losing sleep trying to look
after him. “You don’t need to do that,
Dobby, but I appreciate your concern.”
“Dobby is
honoured to look after Harry Potter, sir,” the elf said with great
dignity.
“I don’t
want to be a bother to you.”
Dobby
stood as tall as he could, his ears fully erect. “Serving Harry Potter is a privilege,
sir! Never a bother!”
Harry
smiled. What could he say to such
devotion? “Thank you, Dobby. I appreciate your help.” He rinsed the flannel in cold water and wiped
his face again. “Dobby?”
“Yes,
Harry Potter, sir?”
Harry
swallowed hard. It was a stupid
question. He knew the answer. But until he heard Dobby’s answer, he was
going to worry. “Are Fred and George
Weasley all right?”
“Dobby
believes so, sir. Why does
you ask?”
“When’s
the last time we saw them?”
“Mr. Fred
and Mr. George comes for dinner on last Sunday, sir,
does you remember?”
Harry’s
brain finally clunked into gear. Of
course they were alive, both as cheerful and funny as ever most of the time,
although the loss of their brothers Bill and Percy did cast a shadow over even
the ebullient twins at times. Harry
breathed a sigh of relief. Dennis was
probably fine too. It was just a stupid
dream. Just a dream. Not real.
“Thanks,
Dobby. I’ll be all right now. You can go back to bed.”
“Yes,
Harry Potter, sir.”
Dobby
left the bathroom, but Harry noticed the sound of the elf’s feet stopped long
before they reached the stairs. Dobby
was waiting for him in the hall. He’d
probably stand watch by Harry’s room for the rest of the night. Harry hated the idea of the house-elf losing
so much sleep over him, but he was grateful, too, for Dobby’s dedication.
“Dobby?” Harry called.
Dobby
raced into the bathroom. “Yes, Harry
Potter, sir?”
“If
you’re going to baby-sit me at night, why don’t you
and Winky sleep in the next room down the hall?
That way, you’ll be close by, but you’ll be able to sleep, too.”
“Oh, no,
Harry Potter, sir! House-elves isn’t sleeping in masters’ beds!”
“You
won’t be sleeping in my bed, Dobby,” Harry said. “Nobody’s using that room.”
“But sir,
that room is master’s quarters, human quarters, not house-elf quarters!”
Harry
bent down to be eye-to-eye with Dobby.
“For now, that room is house-elf quarters because I say it is. OK?
You and Winky can move in tonight if you want to. Just don’t tell Ron and Hermione that you’re
staying up here or why you’ve moved your quarters. They don’t need to worry about me. OK?”
Dobby’s
eyes were swimming with tears. “Yes,
Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter is too
kind, too generous! Thank you.”
Harry
gave Dobby a wan smile. “’Night, Dobby.”
“Goodnight,
Harry Potter, sir,” Dobby said, then popped out of sight with a loud crack.
Probably
off to bring Winky upstairs, Harry
thought.
He rubbed
his face with the flannel again. He was
so tired. He wanted to go back to bed,
but his legs just wouldn’t cooperate yet—they were still too shaky.
Harry sat
down on the floor next to the bathtub and rested his cheek against the cool
porcelain. How long was this going to go
on? Ever since Ginny left for Hogwarts,
Harry had been plagued with horrible nightmares. He was losing weight from throwing up so
much. When Ginny was with him, he didn’t
have so many bad dreams, or when he did, she woke him before they went on too
long. She’d only been gone a couple of
months now, but it seemed like a lifetime.
How was he going to survive the rest of the school year without her
helping him through the night?
Finally
feeling a bit better, Harry struggled to his feet and caught a glimpse of his
too-pale face in the mirror. He turned
and studied his reflection more closely.
“You look
dreadful, dear,” the mirror said. “You
need to eat something.”
“Oh, shut
up,” he said irritably. But the mirror
was right. He’d lost so much weight that
his normally thin face looked gaunt, and there were dark circles under his
eyes. What could he do about it? Nothing. With a heavy sigh, he put his hand on the
doorknob and was about to leave when he remembered the Glamour Charm he’d put
on himself and Ginny as disguises when they went to a
concert for her birthday. He turned back
to the mirror, thinking hard now. Would
it work? What would he have to do? Hmm. What if he made his face just a little more
full in the cheeks and lightened the circles under his eyes? Would that take care of it? He nodded.
He’d try it in the morning and refresh the spell whenever he noticed the
charm fading. He was tired of hearing
how bad he looked all the time.
Harry
trudged wearily back to his room, staring at Ron and Hermione’s closed
door. They’d been married just over a
month now, and kept a Silencing Charm on their room for privacy. Harry had set another one on the outside of
their room so his nightly torment wouldn’t disturb them. He knew they were dealing with their own problems. Besides being newlyweds, they were both
grieving over lost loved ones and trying to put the horrors of war behind them
while dealing with the stress of going to new schools, Hermione to
Harry pulled off his sweat-soaked pyjamas, then dressed in a t-shirt and briefs, shivering a bit in the
cold room. He looked at his bed
sadly. He wanted to sleep, but he knew
he wouldn’t be able to relax for a while.
He wrapped himself in his dressing gown to keep warm and paced around
his room, missing Ginny so much he could taste it. She always found ways to get his mind off the
things that haunted him, or to comfort him if he couldn’t escape those
memories.
He sat
down at the little writing desk he’d had moved to his room after Ginny left so
he could study without disturbing Ron, Hermione or the house-elves when he
couldn’t sleep. This same desk had
contained a Boggart that had appeared to Molly
Weasley a couple of years ago as dead Arthur, dead Ron, dead twins, dead
Harry. He knew there was no Boggart in the desk now, but as frequent as his nightmares
were, he was almost willing to blame them on the desk. If only it were that simple. If only taking the desk out of the room would
solve his problem! He’d burn the bloody
thing if it would help, but the problem was in his head. The horrors of war haunted him every
night.
Harry
looked at Merlin’s empty perch and regretted letting the phoenix stay at
Hogwarts, where he was enjoying visits with Dumbledore, McGonagall and
Fawkes. Harry had talked with Merlin
several times about his nightmares, but the old wizard had no more idea how to
cure Harry’s nightmares than Dobby did.
Harry had considered using his Pensieve to remove the memories of the
war, but dismissed the idea as soon as he’d thought of it. After what he went through when he removed
too many memories at once after Casey’s death, he wasn’t going to use a
Pensieve to help him forget anything.
He’d just suffer through the pains of recovering from the war and
returning to a normal life the same way everyone else did, one day at a
time.
Merlin’s
only comment on the subject was that such suffering after a war’s end was part
of a warrior’s lot in life, and that Harry would learn how to deal with his
memories in time. Merlin said he’d experienced
the same thing many times himself when he was human, and had seen many others
suffer through it, including King Arthur.
Arthur, like Harry, became a warrior far too young and had a great deal
of trouble dealing with the emotional pain that was part of the aftermath of
war while he was also learning how to rule his people wisely. Merlin’s only suggestion to Harry was going
to the Land of the Phoenixes to heal, but Harry had promised Ginny he wouldn’t
go there again since it was so easy to lose track of time in that magical
place. Besides, Harry was too busy to
take time off at the moment. And after
spending several nights in phoenix form, hoping the transformation would allow
him to sleep better, he wasn’t certain even the Land of the Phoenixes would
help. As a phoenix, as any of his
Animagus forms, really, he still had his human sensibilities, which meant he
still had the dreams of a human, so he still suffered from his nightmares. Some distorted sense of right and wrong made
Harry think that, if he were going to dream about things he’d done during the
war, he should dream them in human form.
It felt like a point of honour for him, although he couldn’t explain
why. Silly, really, but there it was.
The worst
part of the nightmares was suffering through them alone. Without Ginny there to comfort him, Merlin’s
wisdom was the best reassurance Harry could find. He wished the old mage were here. He missed his company.
Just as
he finished that thought about Merlin, the phoenix appeared in a flash of
light.
Harry
smiled, both glad and relieved to see his friend. “What are you doing here?”
Merlin
chirped, telling Harry he’d heard his wish, so he’d come. He continued chirping, beginning a
conversation with the young wizard.
“Thanks. Yeah, I had another rough night. I can’t go back to bed yet. And yes, I know I look like hell.” After
another meaning-filled chirp from Merlin, Harry replied, “In a little while. I just can’t relax yet.” Merlin settled in Harry’s lap and began
crooning his soothing song. “That
helps. Thanks a lot.”
Nightmares
weren’t his only problem. At the oddest
times when he was awake, he’d see flashes of battle memories that blinded him
to what was happening around him.
Thankfully, these usually lasted only a second or two, but still, they
were quite disturbing. Visions of his friends who’d died or been badly
injured broke his heart over and over in his dreams or during these flashes
when he was awake. Sometimes the visions
were his imagination playing tricks on him, as in the dream he’d had
tonight. He realized that part of the
problem was that he still had an overwhelming fear for the safety of Ginny, Ron
and Hermione, as well as himself. In his
rational mind, he knew these fears were groundless. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were gone,
after all. He knew that! But his sleeping or exhausted mind simply
wasn’t rational.
Harry
pulled out a piece of parchment with a project he’d been working on and tried
to make some progress with it, but his mind simply wouldn’t cooperate. He looked at his ring and wished he could
call Ginny on it, but it was the middle of the night. Then again, she had told him to call whenever
he needed her, and right now, seeing the image of her beloved face above his
ring was the most comforting thing he could think of. After another moment’s hesitation, he pressed
the stone and said her name. A moment
later, she appeared, her hair sleep-mussed, her eyes
puffy and shadowed with sleep.
“Hi,
Harry,” she said through a yawn. “Is
everything OK?”
“I’m
sorry, sweet girl,” Harry said, already feeling better. “I shouldn’t have called so late.”
“I don’t
mind. I was dreaming of you,
actually. The reality’s a lot better
than my dream.” She gave him a smile
that warmed his heart. “Are you all
right? You look pale. Bad dreams again?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you
want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She
chuckled. “Then why did you call? Never mind, I know why. I love you, Harry. I wish we could be together. I’d protect you from those nightmares!”
“I know
you would. I wish we could be together
too.” He sighed. “Just talking to you has helped a lot. Are you still having nightmares too?”
“Yes, but
when they start to get bad, Trouble wakes me up. Nothing like needle-sharp kitten claws to pop
you out of a dream quickly! I’m so glad
you gave him to me. He’s still a little
stinker, but so much fun, and he does look after me well.”
Harry
smiled. “I’m glad. If I find another part-Kneazle
kitten, I may keep it for myself if Trouble’s that good at stopping your
nightmares. But I’d rather have you wake
me than a kitten.”
“Mmm, me too. Harry, maybe it was a mistake to decide not
to live in your quarters here at Hogwarts.
Why don’t you change your mind?
Then I could stay with you every night and we’d both sleep better.”
Harry
shook his head. “I can’t. I overheard some Board members talking just
before the last Quidditch game there.
Turns out I was right to worry about them. They're not happy with me teaching there
since we’re engaged. They’re wondering
what actually goes on in my quarters.”
Ginny
gasped. “Have they put some kind of
alarm or something on your quarters? How
would they know we’re not studying?”
“No, no
alarms. It’s just speculation.”
“They
should let you do what you want! After
all, you saved them from Voldemort!”
He snorted, a derisive sound.
“I guess not everyone is impressed with me being the hero of the
wizarding world.”
“They
should be! Shame on
them!”
“That’s
my warrior princess,” he said fondly.
“I’ve offered to resign many times now, but Grandfather won’t accept my
resignation. He thinks the students are
benefiting a lot from my teaching, and he says it would be very difficult to
find another Flying Instructor as qualified as I am. I guess he’s right, but I hate the burden the
Board is putting on him—and me.”
“Why
should the speculation of some stuffy old people keep us apart?”
“I don’t
want to cause Grandfather any trouble.
He’s having a hard time getting things back to normal there. I suppose those blokes on the Board blame me
for so many students being killed or wounded during the war. Well, actually, they’d be right for blaming
me for that.”
Ginny’s
eyes flashed. “Harry Potter, stop that
right now! Nobody fought who didn’t want
to. You know that!”
Harry
knew she’d be shaking her finger under his nose if they were together, which
made him smile for a moment, but then he sighed. “I know, but still, I trained them. I led them.”
“And
thinking that way, taking the blame for their deaths,
is why you’re having nightmares. Stop
it!”
A sad
smile crossed Harry’s face. “If only it
were that easy.”
Ginny’s
eyes went from fiery to sympathetic in an instant. “Oh, Harry.
I wish we were together. You need
a hug!”
“That’s
the truth.”
She gave
him a flirtatious smile. “And a kiss or
two, as well?”
“Yeah,
I’ll take anything you offer me, sweet girl.
I’d better let you get back to sleep.
Thanks for the chat. I love you.”
“I love
you too. Try to get some rest,
Harry. You look awful.”
“And you
look beautiful. Good night, Gin.”
“’Night.”
Feeling a
bit better, Harry climbed back into his bed and lay down. He shuddered at the memory of the dream, but
reminded himself that Dennis, Fred and George were all very much alive. “It was just a dream. Just a truly horrible
dream.” He swallowed hard,
determined to clear his mind so he could get to sleep. Merlin nestled in next to him, continuing his
lovely song. Harry yawned hugely. “Thanks for the help. Maybe I can get through the rest of the night
now. G’night.”
Harry took off his glasses, stretched and yawned. With luck, he’d get a few hours of decent
sleep. Merlin’s soothing song finally
lulled him back to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Harry put a Glamour Charm on himself
to hide the dark circles under his eyes and make his face look less
emaciated. Fairly well satisfied with
the results, he went down to breakfast.
“Good morning, Harry!” Hermione said brightly. “Did you sleep well? You look more rested than usual.”
“I’m fine,” he said, smiling at her. “How are you?
And where’s Ron?”
“He remembered something he wanted to add to an essay
for class. He’ll be down soon.” She looked at him more closely. “Hang on.
Your face was much thinner yesterday.
What have you done? A Glamour Charm?”
He shrugged and tried to hide the guilty look he knew was in his eyes.
“Why are you using a glamour?” she insisted.
“Because I look like hell, and I’m tired of hearing
people tell me that,” he snapped.
She put a hand on his arm. “Oh, Harry.
Are you having nightmares again?”
He slumped in defeat.
She could see through him better than most people. “They never stopped. What about you and Ron? Are you still having nightmares?”
“Ours were never like yours, Harry. We’re grieving over lost family, but we flew
above the battles. You were down in the
thick of them all the time. You suffered
a lot more in the war than we did, and before the war, as well. I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay sane,
with the link you had to Voldemort and seeing all the horrors he did, and then
the war and everything. I wish I knew
how to help you, Harry. I’m still
researching Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but haven’t found anything I thought
would be helpful.”
He was touched, as always, by the depth of her friendship. “Thanks.
I know you’re busy. Don’t waste a
lot of time trying to sort out what’s wrong with me. I’ll get through it. And don’t tell
Hermione shook her head. “I think you should get some help, Harry.”
“Yeah, in all my spare time, right?” He laughed, a dark sound with no humour in it.
“Maybe you should drop something, so you can rest.”
Harry made a huge effort to answer her with patience,
not the anger that had flared inside him at her suggestion. “I don’t want to drop anything. If I try to rest, my mind does evil things to
me. I’m much better off being busy.”
She sighed. “All right. Well, if
you’re going to use a Glamour Charm, you should do something about how puffy
your eyes are, too. You look like you
haven’t slept in ages.”
He shrugged.
“That’s the truth, though.” He
held up a spoon and looked at his reflection.
“Make my eyes less puffy, eh?
OK.” He did the spell and looked
at her for approval.
She smiled “That’s better. I just wish you didn’t need that charm to
look healthy.”
“You and me both. You
won’t tell Ron, though, right?”
“If you insist.”
“I insist.
Thanks.”