The Other Side

The Other Side

Blood. Dripping. Making thin, entrancing rivulets down his forearms. He watched the blood with fascination as it drained from his wrists. He began to feel light-headed as reality fell away from him. The last thing he heard before darkness claimed him was the terrified scream of one of his best mates, Hermione Granger.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say, but all that came out was a strangled gasp.

~ ~ ~

"No! He can't be dead! Shut up, Hermione! Don't say it! Don't. Say. It. Please... please, don't..."

He heard Ron pleading and he tried to open his eyes. Of course he wasn't dead. He couldn't be, except for the fact that he most definitely was. He was looking down at Ron and Hermione and yet he was also lying on the hospital bed. Bloody hell! I'm dead!

"You've just now noticed that, have you? What was your first clue?"

He jerked his head around to see a hooded figure floating next to him.

"But I-"

"You slit your wrists. What did you think would happen, you idiot?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Santa's Little Helper. Who do I look like?"

"Are you Death?"

"Death? No. But that'd be a nice little job, wouldn't it? I'm your guardian angel."

"Angel? You don't really strike me as the angelic type."

"Very funny, Mr. Potter. Actually, naughty boys like you don't get the pretty, namby pamby angels. You get blokes like me."

"Why?"

"You killed yourself! Do you honestly believer you deserve anyone but me?"

"I... I didn't think-"

"You could've fooled me! Of course you didn't think. People like you never do."

"People like me?"

"Hero types."

"I-"

"Don't try to give me a speech. I'm not here to listen to you. I'm here to show you all that will occur because of your immense error in judgment."

"Hold on. Wait-"

But the figure flicked his hand and the room began to spin around Harry. When things finally settled into place, he was in a cemetery.

"What's this about?"

"Go! Look at the tombstones," His "guardian angel" ordered.

Harry stepped forward and felt a lump form in his throat. They were for all of his friends. Ron... Hermione... Ginny... Neville... members of the DA... and nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix.

"My death caused all this?"

"You didn't defeat Voldemort before you took your life. Your friends were powerless to stop him."

"I can't... no... this can't happen..."

"Not everyone died though."

"Huh?"

Their surroundings spun again and this time they ended up on a ward in St. Mungo's.

"Why are we here?"

"Look in that room and find out."

Harry obliges and when he sees Lupin curled up against the wall, rocking back and forth and muttering to himself, ghost tears fill his eyes.

"Lupin saw everyone and everything that he loved get taken from him. He cracked. He'll spend the rest of his days locked in that room, lost inside his own shattered mind."

"Lupin..."

"Oh, and I think you'll love this one. Want to check in on your arch-enemy?"

Harry didn't have a chance to respond before he was whisked off to yet another place. He nearly let out a gasp when he recognized 12 Grimmauld Place and Draco Malfoy seated at the kitchen table.

"What's he doing here?"

"He shifted sides and became a member of the Order. He's one of a few that are left. But he is not without scars. His heart belonged to Ginny Weasley, and he had to watch her be killed at the hands of his father. With her death, and the deaths of the others weighing him down, he is slowly succumbing to the depression that claimed your life. But in and odd twist of fate, he is now The- Boy- Who- Lived. Wonder is he'll abstain from suicide? What do you think, Harry?"

"This is all wrong... it's... it's all wrong..."

"Yes, it most definitely is. Ready to go back?"

"Back where?"

"Really, Harry... I knew you weren't the brightest broom in the cupboard, but you can't be that dense." The figure shook his head and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

He was back in the sixth year boys' dormitory. The razor blade rested against his wrist. He looked around and his gaze fell on the small mirror in front of him. It was the two way mirror Sirius had given him but it was no longer broken. Harry picked it up and chanced a glance into it. And there was the figure, except its hood was down and the solemn face of his godfather stared up at him.

"Remember, Harry. Remember what will happen." Sirius' reflection faded and the razor blade fell from Harry's hand without a sound.

* * *