Awakening || Harry & Hermione

Chapter 12.5

The sun had just set but Hermione's eyes were already drooping.

"Hermione," Harry said exasperatedly. "Will you please get some rest? I bet you didn't get any sleep last night either. It's not like I'll disappear once you come back."

"I am perfectly fine where I am, thank you very much," Hermione said sternly, but the yawn that escaped her a second later said otherwise.

"At the very least, come lie down," Harry said, sitting up from the bed. "You've been sitting on that chair all day."

She half heartedly protested, but Harry just rolled his eyes and pulled her along.

Once they were lying side by side on the small hospital bed with the blanket pulled up to their chins, Harry whispered: "Hermione?"

Hermione turned on her side and faced him. "Yes?"

"Did you feel that same thing earlier? When Ron was here?" Harry frowned. "I know it's been a long time since we've spoken, but I didn't expect to feel so... alienated from him. I didn't even know what to say."

She looked thoughtful. "You two are on different wavelengths now, emotionally and regarding what you consider important. You grew apart, Harry. That's all it is."

"Is that normal?" He asked. "Was it like this with you too?"

"When I stopped talking with Ron?" Hermione sighed. "You have to understand that me and Ron were never the best of friends. He insulted me or ignored me or belittled my opinions and I would snipe at him and insult him right back and it was just a vicious cycle. Honestly, the only thing we had in common was you. I doubt we would have ever become friends otherwise."

Harry was taken aback for a moment, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized Hermione was right.

"What about us?" A sudden thought hit him. "We won't ever grow apart like that, will we?"

"You and me?" Hermione laughed, bringing her face closer to his. "You think you could get rid of me that easily? I'm here to stay for the long run."

Harry reached down and grasped her hand tightly. "Good."

That night, there were no nightmares.

_____

The whole time he had been recuperating, Harry waited for Dumbledore and his inevitable interrogation. Surprisingly, the headmaster seemed to be busy with other affairs and did not visit him until the very last day of his stay in the Hospital Wing.

Perhaps this visit would have gone unnoticed had Harry not woken up early that morning, thirsty for water, and found the headmaster sitting in the chair besides his bed with one hand rubbing the creases on his forehead and his eyes closed.

"Professor?" Harry called out, uncertain if this was still a dream. Dumbledore had always been an elderly respected figure, but Harry would never have classified him as old. Yet, as he looked at the man who seemed to have aged another decade overnight, noticed the wrinkles on his face and the sunken bags under his eyes, Harry was once again struck by the thought that Dumbledore was...human after all. The usual aura of power and authority that surrounded the headmaster had vanished and left behind a brittle old man.

Dumbledore opened his eyes at the sound of his voice and the sharp glint in his gaze along with the imposing pressure it brought—as if those eyes could see through all the lies of the world, all the hidden grievances in Harry's heart—made Harry wonder if he had imagined what he had just seen.

"Good morning, Harry." Dumbledore gave him a slight smile as he reached out and handed him a glass of water, ignoring how Harry tensed up in response. "I did not wish to disturb your rest these past few days, but Madam Pomfrey tells me that you have made a full recovery. I am glad to hear it."

Are you? Harry thought.

At his silence, Dumbledore's smile slowly faded and he sighed. "I know this will be painful, but I need to know what happened after you touched the portkey in the maze. Can you tell me, Harry?"

Harry had long seen this question coming. He told the headmaster of the homunculus form of Voldemort that he had mistaken as a baby, Wormtail tying him up, the torture he had endured, the strange phenomenon where his and Voldemort's wands had connected, seeing his parents...

"And then?" Dumbledore prompted quietly when Harry suddenly stopped speaking.

Harry's throat felt dry. "And then while the ghosts fought Voldemort, I used the Accio charm to get the portkey and found myself lying on the ground outside the maze. You already know the rest."

The headmaster seemed to accept this as he nodded and proceeded to explain to Harry what exactly had happened with Voldemort and Harry's wands ("Priori Incantatem," Harry whispered and felt a shiver go through him at the notion that he held such a powerful connection to the Dark Lord....that he mirrored him) and the significance of what Voldemort had done with the blood protection Lily Potter had left behind.

Surprisingly, Dumbledore did not ask about what he had done to Barty Crouch and Harry did not mention it.

After Dumbledore finished explaining, it was his turn to fall silent. Harry looked down at the white bed sheet and tried not to fidget or show his discomfort. Surely, he hadn't realized that Harry was hiding something?

Then the headmaster spoke, his voice low and mournful:

"Your words after the third task have haunted me. I have had many regrets throughout my years and now I have another to add. You should never have had to experience what you did that night. But as much as I regret the pain you have been subject to, I cannot help but be overcome with pride.

"You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all we have a right to expect."

Once upon a time, these words would have brought indescribable joy to Harry, pride at receiving Dumbledore's high praise and relief that he had done the right thing. But now, the Harry who sat motionless on the hospital bed felt like someone had carved out his insides and left behind a hollow shell of a person. He was not the brave, honorable boy Dumbledore said he was. He was nothing and he felt nothing.

Regrets? Harry wanted to ask. Do you regret leaving me behind at the Dursleys and never checking to see how I was doing, if I was suffering? Do you regret using me as bait in this tournament even though I begged you to believe me?

Would you say those same words if you knew what I did that night? If you knew how I slaughtered those Death Eaters and watched them die with satisfaction in my heart? If you knew what I've become?

Harry didn't want to know.

He had a feeling he knew what the answer would be.

Dumbledore sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder in what was probably meant to be a comforting gesture, and then finally got up and walked out of the Hospital Wing.

Harry remained motionless and silent long after he had left.