It had ended at the very place where it had all started, at least in Harry’s opinion.
He inhaled the crisp air of the early morning and noticed the tiny droplets of dew littering the evergreen coloured grass. It was slightly chilly outside, but Harry didn’t mind at all. He plunged his hands into the pockets of his ragged and dirt-smudged pants as he continued to walk across the Hogwarts grounds. As he walked, he observed the fine carvings of the enormous and magnificent castle that he had, and would always, call home.
He had spent the best years of his life there, and no matter what trouble he got into or what hardships he had faced, he would always consider Hogwarts apart of him. It was a place he would never forget.
He glanced up with his round-rimmed glasses at the rising sun in the east that plunged the normally blue sky into a warming orange.
Well I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
Harry tore his attention away from the magnificent sun rise as his oval eyes caught site of two figures embracing each other for comfort by the large Hogwarts Lake. He instantly quickened his pace as his heart beat sped up rapidly. His breath became shortened and somewhat constricted as excitment exploded into his stomach.
It was them. It had to be them.
He finally stopped when he reached a beech tree (which he had once finished homework under) that stood by the two figures.
The two had not seen him.
Harry carefully observed one of the figures who had floppy, flaming red hair which stood out vibrantly like a sore thumb. The boy was tall and possessed a large build. His face was dirty and scraped.
It was Ron Weasley, Harry’s best friend since the first moment the two had met at the London train station six years ago. Harry and Ron were always together. If one had gotten into trouble, the other wasn’t far away. They had played Quidditch, finished homework, joked around, shared rooms, and even saved Hogwarts together. Harry also remembered (with great detail) their entertaining conversations together about “female” issues among them.
Harry had also stayed numerous times with Ron’s family, the Weasleys. Harry was accepted like another son among them, and he had also been through many events with Ron and his family such as being saved from the Dursleys via a flying car and going to the Quidditch World Cup with them.
The two had been close.
Even when Harry vowed he would walk on the long path of lonely responsibility by himself, Ron had stood by him; had walked with him.
Harry recalled fondly his quarrels with Ron, and how they could never stay mad at each other. One way or another, one of them would eventually give in to an apology, and the other would always accept. It was always a tiring and lengthy process, but it strengthened their friendship further than all others.
Harry knew how Ron had always seemed to be searching for the courage that placed him in Gryffindor. Ron had lacked a sort of confidence that led him into jealous feelings and other conflicted emotions. Harry smiled to himself, for he found it ironic that what Ron was constantly searching for was within him all along, and he showed it last night. Ron had the heart of a lion, and he had been a true friend; a true brother.
With my brother standing by
I said brother, you know, you know
It’s a long road we’ve been walking on,
Brother you know it is, you know it is,
Such a long road we’ve been walking on
“This was as far as he would let me go,” Ron whispered to the girl he was holding. “Our paths came to a cross roads. Why didn’t I see that? Why was I so blind?”
Harry shifted his attention from Ron to the girl being held. She had long, hazelnut coloured hair that had been pulled up in a bun, but had come undone to show off her wavy locks. Her eyes were shut, and her face seemed drained of colour. Her arms were slung tightly around Ron.
It was Hermione Granger; one of the smartest and brightest students at Hogwarts Harry had ever met. Not only was she academically intelligent though, but she possessed common sense and knew what to do in every difficult situation possible. If Harry ever needed somebody to help him in even the tightest spot, it was Hermione. She was the one that looked out for him when it came to face dragons, survive the Dursleys, finish homework assignments, and even near death. She had always been there, standing by him.
Harry had not only been saved multiple times by Hermione physically but mentally as well. She knew how to understand and comfort Harry in troublesome times, and she acknowledged when he needed space to be alone. She knew him better than she knew her text books. Her friendship with him, and her eye that she had always kept on him, pulled him through all the hard times and filled him with the comfort and strength that made him persist through it all.
The two had shared so much between them.
As Harry leaned his shoulder against the tough bark of the tree, he thought about how Hermione had seemed so perfect when it came to exams and school, but when it came to proving herself in the eyes of others, she became vulnerable. He remembered many times where Hermione tried so hard to show her magical abilities, and the one night she had told Harry that she would never be as great a wizard/witch as he. Harry had always disagreed with this, and during the most difficult hours of their lives, she had more than proven herself not just as an amazing and talented witch but as a true friend; a sister.
With my sister standing by
I said Sister, here is what I know now
Here is what I know now
Goes like this…
In your love, my salvation lies
In your love, in your love, in your love
“Ron, don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault,” replied Hermione as she buried her tear-stricken face into Ron’s shirt.
“It’s his fault, Hermione! You know it is! He didn’t have to! There could have been another way, there is always another way!” shouted Ron in frustration, and Hermione pulled away from him, her eyes raw and red.
“Don’t you understand, Ron?! He’s tired! He’s sick of it all!”
But sister you know I’m so weary
“He’s lost everybody, Ron! He has never had anybody, nobody at all! Every time he has even come remotely close to somebody, he has lost them! Look at Cedric, at Sirius, at Dumbledore! For God’s sake! You have a loving family; a mom, a dad, and siblings! I have a family; a mom and a dad! Who does Harry have, Ron?! Tell me!”
And you know sister
My heart’s been broken
“He had us, Hermione! He had us, damnit!”
Sometimes, sometimes
Hermione gazed at Ron, and Harry knew her hazel eyes held fear in them for what she was going to say next.
“Ron,” she said suddenly quietly as she grasped his cold, pale hand, “he made up his mind. He saved us, he saved the world. He knew what he needed to do. He did what he had to do.”
My mind is too strong to carry on
Too strong to carry on
Harry shivered suddenly as Ron and Hermione peered down at the ground and were pulled into silence. The two were still refusing to believe what had happened just hours ago. They felt that those hours were worlds away now.
He did do what he had to do. He had finished Voldemort’s reign of terror once and for all, and in the process, had saved everybody; every single soul. Now that it was done, he no longer carried the burden of being The Boy Who Lived or “The Chosen One”, and he did not have the responsibility of being the single grain of rice that could make all the difference. He didn’t have to worry any more about people dying desperately, and the world losing hope.
With this release off his shoulders, Harry had discovered and found quite funny how he felt no desire to possess any items, and all material objects that might have caught his attention or meant the world to him before, no longer mattered. He had lost the need and want to own. He had more important things to care about that weren’t material possessions.
It was as if he was finally free from all the troubles and the constant weight of reality, society, and the world. Suddenly, his eyes had been open to peace.
Oh, but how lonely he was.
When I am alone
When I’ve thrown off the weight of this crazy stone
When I've lost all care for the things I own
He might have been free, he might have saved the world, he might have found peace within himself, but he missed Ron and Hermione. He missed them so much he almost wanted to undo what he had done and plunge the world into darkness just so he could be with them, share one more joke with them, tell them how much he loved them; how much they would always mean to him.
His two best friends had supported him through everything, and even at times, shared his enormous burden. They lifted his spirits higher than anybody else he had ever met, and their friendship had saved him from insanity too many times to count.
That's when I miss you, that's when I miss you, that's when I miss you
You are my home
Ron’s rugged face glanced at Hermione’s, and he slowly embraced her once again. Hermione leaned the side of her scarlet cheek against his hard chest.
“I’m sorry, Hermione,” murmured Ron under his breath finally.
“Don’t be, Ron. Don’t be,” choked Hermione as she closed her eyes to have hot, salty tears stream down the sides of her crimson cheeks.
Ron put his chin on top of Hermione’s soft head as he caressed her back gently. She exhaled heavily.
“Harry did what he was destined to do. He did it for us,” whispered Ron into Hermione’s ear.
“For us…”
In your love, in your love, in your love
An unexplainable smile came across Harry’s face as he observed them together. He felt himself well up in the two most opposing emotions possible; happiness and sadness. There was happiness for saving them, and sadness for leaving them.
He didn’t want to part with them, he knew it would tear his heart in two to do so, but he had no choice. Perhaps there was another way, maybe the three of them could have figured it out together like they had so many times in the past, but they didn’t have the time. Voldemort had killed too many.
When Harry saw Voldemort contort into the same insurmountable pain that he himself had just been hit with, Harry knew exactly what the Prophecy had meant. He understood the full meaning of the words: And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
It was true that Voldemort had marked Harry as his equal on that fateful night in October, and that only Harry and Voldemort were capable of killing each other, but everybody (which included Harry himself) had overlooked and assumed too much of Professor Trelawney’s words. Did it ever say that survival would be physical? Did it ever say that Harry or Voldemort would physically survive? No.
As Harry lay crippled in pain staring up at the night sky, coughing for air, he understood perfectly well that the Prophecy had predicted survival but had never specified what kind.
After a long and exhausting journey, Harry had destroyed all the Horcruxes with Ron and Hermione one by one, which had taken a toll on all of them. Their efforts and hardships came down to one final battle. After destroying the last Horcrux, Harry had felt Voldemort’s presence and calling. He knew that that night they would face each other at the one place that started it all for the both of them; had held the greatest bond to the both of them.
As Harry dueled with Voldemort on the grounds of Hogwarts mixed among Death Eaters and members of the Order, he knew that because Voldemort no longer had anymore extra pieces of his soul left, they each only had one life. The two were then more than ever before, equals in power, in strength, and in likeness. They were connected and were destined to share the same fate.
As Voldemort screamed in horror and in fear, Harry rose from the ground (while experiencing the same excruciating pain beyond reason) clutching his battered eleven inch wand made of holly and phoenix feather that had been a curse and a blessing. Harry straightened himself up and pointed it toward his forehead where his lightening bolt shaped scar that plagued and defined him for so many years was.
Hermione had screamed his name through tears and disbelief. Ron had pleaded and begged for him not to do it. Harry had turned to the two of them to notice that time had stopped just for the three of them, and a deafening silence fell upon them.
Every moment, every step he had ever taken with his two friends flashed before Harry’s eyes. Each moment Harry thought of with his two best friends tore his heart in two, and made it even harder for him to leave them. Finally, he mustered a sad smile that said, “Goodbye and take care”.
He turned to Voldemort and conjured all his courage that Godric Gryffindor himself would have even been proud of before whispering one word.
No one ever heard (or would ever know) what incantation Harry Potter had said. Only one thing was for sure though: it was not the Avada Kedavra.
Little did anybody know, the spell that Harry had said required love; love that was equivalent to the amount of hate used during the Avada Kedavra. Only strong love, Harry’s love, would complete the spell successfully.
And it was successful. It truly was.
A bright light flashed before Harry’s stunning green eyes and all feeling started to leave him. He felt himself be absorbed in a blanket of warm water as his soul rose, and his body fell behind. His wand hit the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces.
The power that the Prophecy had talked about, the power that the Dark Lord did not know of, was Harry’s selfless courage and love. It was the will to die for a just cause without fear; to make the ultimate sacrifice.
The last picture he ever saw before he died was not Voldemort dying, Hogwarts, or all the other members of the Order staring at him in vain, but Ron and Hermione’s beautiful faces: the faces that were his life.
Harry felt tears sting at his eyes and his glasses fog up rapidly.
How could someone be dead and still feel? Wasn’t death supposed to end everything, end all pain?
He shook his head.
He knew it wasn’t that easy. No matter what, there would always be pain within him, within everybody. Harry had no idea what the future without him held in store, but he knew for certain that Ron and Hermione would move on together, and as long as they were alright, he would be too. He would overcome his pain within them, and in the hearts of those he saved.
Without Voldemort, his followers would fall with him and so would his legacy of horror. Harry on the other hand, would continue to survive with his beliefs, ideals, intensions, and dreams, through memory. That is what the Prophecy had meant by survival.
Harry knew he didn’t have too much time left. He knew he had to go. As he looked at Ron and Hermione one last time still holding each other, Harry took one last mental picture of them that he could keep within him and his heart forever. He wished he could be with them, stay with them, but he knew the harsh truth was he couldn’t. He would never be able to again. With anguish and reluctance, he finally forced himself to turn away painfully and leave them as he marched toward the orange sky; toward the end of his destiny.
Well I had a dream
I stood beneath an orange sky
With my brother and my sister standing by
With my brother and my sister standing by
With my brother and my sister standing…
Inspired by and credited to: Orange Sky by Alexi Murdoch