Beyond the Emerald Green

Special Thanks: To 007 & RavenNat, my outstanding beta readers.

Chapter Nine

Realization

Maigo Nano Hi was overrun by wizards and witches. Officials from several countries were everywhere, finding and arresting Voldemort’s Death Eaters in droves. They were surprisingly submissive, most of them turning themselves in without question. It was as if something inside of them had snapped, and they had come to their senses. No one said anything about what they thought about this, not wanting to give false hope. Yet, what occupied their minds more than unusual Death Eaters, was the disappearance of two Royal Aurors Society members… and Voldemort himself.

Everyone, from Britain to Brazil, knew that Harry Potter had gone to Japan to seek out the dark lord. The Royal Aurors Society knew full well by now the directives behind Project: China Tea. Each member of that special project had been found dead- except one. Ron Weasley was one of the missing members, as was Harry Potter. With this in mind, Aurors searched frantically for them- eager to find out if their suspicions were correct. Had the dark lord taken his final defeat at last?

Only Harry Potter knew for sure, and when he finally appeared, Harry proved their suspicions true. There he stepped from the arch doorway, from the Crossworlds, and back into his dimension. He was weak, tired, and grief stricken, but all that everyone could see was a tall and brave savior. Harry had no control over himself. He was simply there, but his spirit was elsewhere. To everyone, Harry Potter was back, but the real Harry was nowhere to be found.

"Harry Potter!" A voice cried out. Then another, and another, until the whole cliffside was echoing the name. It hit his ears, but he couldn’t hear. All he could hear was the resonance of a scream. The scream rose in intensity as the name the people were shouting turned into a single voice… a voice that grew into a malicious whisper. It seethed into Harry’s ears, lurking into his brain, taunting his mind.

"Who will haunt your dreams now, Harry Potter?"

Harry’s hands balled into fists, his breath came out ragged and fast. No one took notice. There stood Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived! He had returned!

"Can’t disappoint the people now, can we?"

"NO!" Harry bellowed. He reached down into his pocket and drew out Voldemort’s wand. Instantly, the cliff fell into a dead silence. Harry held it high above his head, sweat drenching his messy black hair. "YOU CAN’T BREAK ME!"

In one fluid movement, he brought the wand down upon his knee, and snapped it in half. There was a burst of green sparks, and the two broken pieces fell to the ground… where they shriveled up in a puff of smoke.

Harry stared at that spot long after the crowd rose up such a cheer that islands off the coast could hear. He stood there, panting, as people began to surround him. They touched him as if he were made of the finest crystal, wept joy and relief. The highest praises were brought down upon him in several languages. Yet Harry couldn’t feel their touch or hear their praise. He couldn’t sense their being or listen to their voices. Harry was just there, all alone, empty of his life force. A pall fell over his eyes, locking him out from the world. He couldn’t understand why the people were happy… for he couldn’t see.

"Harry…!" Yelled a familiar voice.

"Harry!" Shouted another.

The second voice managed enough to get through to Harry’s senses. He remembered that voice… he… he loved that voice. Always had.

"Oh, Harry!"

A face began to show up in his vision. Bright and worried eyes mixed with relief stared deep into him. Long red hair swam around his shoulders.

"Harry, what happened? Are you alright?"

"Ginny?" Harry didn’t recognize his voice.

"Yes, Harry. And Hermione… Hermione is here too, see?" Now Harry could hear her worry.

"Harry, where’s Ron? What happened to Ron?" Chestnut hair swirled in front of his eyes.

"Where’s Ron?" Harry said, his eyes out of focus. "Ron is home… Ron… I wanted to go home. He… I…"

"Harry?" There were tears in Ginny’s eyes.

"I let him go."

And he ran. He ran past Ginny. He ran past Hermione. He ran past the crowds of rejoicing people, oblivious of their hero. He ran and he ran. He ran until his muscles gave out and he fell. Where he landed, he didn’t know. Harry didn’t care. He had nothing left to care for.

Eventually, he was found. Ginny knelt by his side, parting his sweat-dampened bangs. She looked at his lightning bolt scar, red and blazing, and touched it gently with a slender finger. Harry felt it all behind an enormous mental wall. He was far away… nothing would ever be the same again.

"Oh, Harry." Ginny sighed.

She drew him up to his feet and carried most of his weight through a thicket of trees. It was all as if a dream to Harry, as if it wasn’t real. He wasn’t entirely there… a part of him was lost, seemingly never to be found again. While he could feel Ginny’s small shoulders underneath him, her red hair blanketing his cheek, Harry was certain that she wasn’t with him. He had let her brother die… she would forsake him. She would never be by his side now.

"It’ll be alright, Harry, just a while longer and you’ll be home." Ginny panted gently.

Home, Harry thought distantly. Ron won’t be home. He’ll never be home again.

Then he blacked out. Harry submitted to the darkness, to his unconscious mind. It was there that he was trapped… forever seeing the image of letting Ron go, of Voldemort’s jeering smile, the screams, …the voices. Harry realized that his entire life was pointless. He had always been, from the Dursleys to the end of Hogwarts. Everyone thought of him as something much more than he actually was. He was really just a coward, a shell living a sheltered life. Sure, he had finally accomplished what everyone wanted, but what did it cost him?

"From what I can see, physically he’s unharmed. Just fatigued and starved." Said a voice seemingly miles away.

"But?" Asked another, smaller and full of concern.

"But, whatever happened to him has caused him to fall into a mental coma. He’s in severe shock."

"Will he recover?"

"If time allows him to. I can’t even begin to imagine the suffering this man has endured throughout his short life- it will not be easy."

"We shouldn’t tell him then,"

"About your brother?"

"And his godfather."

"Oh, yes. No, let him rest for now. He’s not ready for another blow."

Another blow? Harry let the wall of his mind thicken. He didn’t want anymore heartache. He would hide… nothing would ever hurt him again.

"Harry… if you can hear me, I won’t be far. If you need me, I’ll be here."

You don’t understand, Ginny… you don’t understand.

It was three days before Harry opened his eyes again. He found himself in a secluded spot of a makeshift hospital tent. Without a sound, Harry put his clothes back on. There was a deafening buzz of voices outside the tent. He put his shoes on and quietly made his way to find the back of the tent, where he might be able to slip out. The tent was empty, aside from him, and he found the back door flap easily. His mind was a complete blank, thinking nothing other than his chair back at Stag’s Head and Sirius’ warm cup of tea in his hands. Harry stepped outside.

"Harry."

He stopped dead, only to face Hermione. She was slightly shorter than he was, looking deeply into his eyes with an unreadable expression. Harry avoided her gaze, trying to look around as if interested in something else. No… no, he couldn’t face her. Not after what he had done.

"You know, don’t you?" She said quietly.

Harry said nothing. He continued to look away.

"Tell me!" She snapped, her eyes pleading. When Harry still said nothing, she took his face in her hands and forced him to look her straight in the eyes. "Tell me."

Finally, Hermione’s severity that she had always possessed ever since he had met her forced him to speak.

"I let him go."

Hermione’s eyes went wide, she didn’t understand.

"Harry…"

"I LET HIM GO! Ron is dead! Because of me!" Harry shouted suddenly, tearing her hands from his face. He stood over her, panting in his outburst, as she stared at him with her mouth gaping.

"What…? I don’t understand!"

"I am not the person you think I am!" Harry shouted severely. And with that he took two steps behind her. "I never was."

He apparated then. Back to what he believed was home… the last place where he could go. He left Hermione alone at the back of the tent, alone to contemplate what he had said. He didn’t care what she thought… it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing would ever be as it was again.

The woods were silent when Harry appeared at the foot of the stone staircase that led up to Stag’s Head. He looked up at the wooden house with yearning, wanting desperately to feel Sirius’ reassuring hand on his shoulder and a cup of tea. Yes… he was away from everything that ever happened. Here in these magical woods, nothing could break the serenity that it provided. Harry let his eyes study his home, noting with a faint smile the way the house jutted out magically over the cliff one side of it rested upon.

However, his moment of happiness struck him suddenly with shock. Why was he happy? While he was allowed to return home, Ron, his best friend, his brother in bond, would not be. Instead, he was gone, forced to an early eternal rest- a rest he was not ready to take. All because of Harry.

"Sirius!" he cried suddenly, ignoring the tears that had begun to pour over his cheeks. "Sirius!"

In a desperate, childish rush, Harry climbed the stone staircase. He flew open the wooden door, emblazoned with the image of a stag, and stumbled into the foyer. "Sirius!"

By then he was crying freely, running into the heart of the house. The large open room where the walls were nothing but glass overlooking the ocean, was eerily silent. Harry’s desperate footsteps echoed dully in the space, which at one time was warm and full of life. Now it seemed empty, and Harry let out a sob at the feeling of the house being abandoned. Where was Sirius?

"Sirius?!" His voice was hardly recognizable.

He looked to the two armchairs that were always by the fire, where he and Sirius would always be. Harry let out a gasp of relief as he saw the reassuring figure of his godfather sitting in his usual chair. Why had he not said anything?

"Oh, Sirius!" Harry cried, rushing over to him. He was about to confront him, confide in him, beg for his comfort… but he stopped suddenly when he saw Sirius face-to-face.

"Sirius! What… what happened to you?" Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Sirius’ eyes, which were normally cool and collective, were staring dead ahead, out of focus. They were clouded over, as if by a mist, and unseeing. And still, he did not answer Harry.

"How…?" Harry fell to his knees and took Sirius’ hands.

"Harry? Is that you?" Sirius’ voice came out as dry as parchment.

"Yes, Sirius, it’s me! Tell me, what happened to your eyes?" He squeezed his hands gently.

"Oh, Harry, I’m afraid I cannot see you. Or hear you." His face twisted in grief and shame.

It was all too much to bear. Harry wailed and buried his head in his godfather’s lap.

"You disappeared. I was in Mexico, helping to put a stop to the rising numbers of Death Eaters there, when I heard. No one knew where you were. The whole special project team was dead, but Ron was missing as well. I tried to leave to go find you, but I was ambushed by a swarm of Death Eaters. There were too many. A barrage of different curses hit me. In the end, I had been hit with so many that it left me blind and deaf… and there is no way to reverse it. The healers sent me home, here. I knew you would come home, though. I’m sorry." Sirius explained sadly, stroking Harry’s tangled hair.

Harry shook his head miserably. Here he had caused another person he loved to loose so much. Sirius no longer had a life, and all because of Harry once again.

"It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!" Harry sobbed, turning Sirius’ musty wizarding robes damp.

"Harry, what’s the matter? I’m alright! You don’t have to worry about me." Sirius said tenderly. "It’s not your fault."

"Yes it is!" Harry nodded, Sirius sensing his gesture.

"Oh, I wish I could hear you. I wish I could see your face and make it better. I’m afraid I’m never there for you when you need me most. It’s me who’s at fault, Harry, not you."

"Never." Harry hiccuped like a small child, with severity. "It has always been me… as it always will."

"There’s something more, isn’t there." Sirius said in a quiet tone. "It’s not like you to be so upset."

Harry drew himself up to look at his godfather’s unseeing face. He forced his sobs back down into his chest and wiped his eyes.

"Tell me, Harry." Sirius said sternly, with parental incentive. "Don’t keep it in you. While I can’t hear your words or see your tears, I can still feel them. You don’t have to feel them alone anymore."

Harry broke down then, falling back into his godfather’s lap. Sirius held him as he told him everything, letting the resonance of his voice speak through Sirius’ body. He cried until he had no more tears to shed. When he was finally through, Harry slumped to the floor like an empty husk. Sirius leaned down and lowered himself to the floor next to him, where he could finally give him the hug that Harry wanted so desperately to feel.

"Harry," he said into his ear. "You don’t have to worry anymore. Your job is done. This will always be your home, and this is where you belong. I may be trapped inside myself, but I am still here for you now. I love you as a son, as you are to me in spirit, and no matter what may have happened in the past- I am still very proud of you."

Harry could only hiccup with his moist eyes, burying his face into Sirius’ chest. He didn’t know how long he stayed in Sirius’ embrace, but he knew that the house was dark and cold when he felt Sirius gently pulling him away.

"New hope dawns with each new day," he said to Harry softly. "Time for bed."

But the dawns that came day after day were cloudy and gray. Harry refused to leave the house, tending to Sirius’ needs by himself and fetching supplies strictly through Floo Powder. He forced his mind to only focus on Sirius, and taking care of him. No matter how much Sirius complained, Harry did what needed to be done for him. With each small task- fetching Sirius’ clothes, making dinner, cleaning up- Harry felt that he would work forever until his soul felt redeemed. Yet, no matter what he did, the voices still taunted him at the back of his mind, and screamed at him in his dreams.

It was only a matter of time before the Royal Aurors Society declared Ron Weasley officially missing and presumed dead. Only the Society had means of contacting Stag’s Head, and Harry ignored the summons that came from the fire. Sirius was honorably retired, and Harry put on extended leave. Still, Harry gave no reply. There was no way, to his knowledge, of letting Sirius know of his status.

That was until a few weeks after Harry had returned to Stag’s Head, when yet another person called from the fire. Sirius was asleep in his chair, unhearing, and Harry making soup in the kitchen.

"I know you’re there, Harry."

Harry remembered that voice. That voice in which had helped him when he was young, advised him, counseled him. There was power in the voice, even still after so many years. It had been months since he heard it last.

"Harry, come here."

Such was the authority in the voice that Harry almost immediately obeyed. He hesitated in the doorway of the kitchen, where he could see the head in the fire.

"Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry." Dumbledore’s eyes lacked their usual twinkle.

Harry didn’t say anything, but came closer. He set down his cup of soup on an end table and crossed his arms, looking out the cloudy window that made up the wall to his side.

"Why won’t you come out, Harry? You know Sirius can take care of himself for a while." Dumbledore said quietly. Still, Harry was silent. "You will never heal like this, you know."

"I have no need to heal," Harry said finally, almost inaudibly. "I don’t deserve to."

"While I do not, and may never, know what happened… you can’t let it destroy you." Dumbledore said after a while. Harry merely shook his head. "You haven’t done anything so wrong as to throw your life away."

"But I did throw a life away!" Harry shouted suddenly, turning to face Dumbledore finally. "Ron’s!"

Dumbledore didn’t look the least bit surprised at Harry’s outburst. He kept his soothing calm, which eventually got Harry to quiet down.

"Ron took an oath, the day he became an Auror, that if he would be required, he would give his life for the sake of preventing evil. He was fully aware of the risks involved with his job, and he ultimately gave the greatest sacrifice for the wellbeing of the people. You took the same oath, you know what the job involves. If the roles were switched, you would have wanted it the same way. I have no doubt that Ron is proud of what you did."

Harry wanted to yell out again, disagree, but there was such certainty in Dumbledore’s tone that there was no way he could argue. Yet he still felt the same way, no matter what was said or done. He merely forced more tears back into his eyes and looked straight at the window once more.

"I can’t force you to realize anything, Harry, but I can help you if you wish it. There’s nothing more I can do unless you want me to. I’ve only called upon you today to tell you that the funeral service for Ron is this evening." Dumbledore looked at him intently. "He, and the Weasleys, would want you to be there."

Ever so slightly, Harry turned to face him.

"For what purpose? To console with me, or accuse at me?"

"You’ve always been so stubborn," Dumbledore snapped, suddenly angry. "You’re just like your father. But he would seek to be reconciled… not wallow forever in his own self-pity."

It was meant to turn Harry around, to make him see reason, but Dumbledore immediately regretted his statement. Harry turned to him, red in the face, too infuriated for words. Dumbledore knew he had made a grave mistake.

"I’m sorry," he said quickly.

"What makes you think you understand?" Harry’s voice was low and dangerous. He lost his submission to Dumbledore’s natural authority. "No one will ever understand! Just leave me alone!"

With that, he drew out his wand, shouted a spell, and a wave of water crashed over the fireplace. Immediately, the fire was put out, and Dumbledore’s head disappeared. Sirius flinched and woke up when a few drops fell on his face. He searched the room unseeingly in confusion.

"Harry? What was that? The roof’s not leaking, is it?"

Harry’s fists trembled in his rage, and he stomped off… his heavy shoes echoing off the wooden floor. Sirius could feel the vibration through his chair, and he let out a controlled breath. Yet another shadow passed over the house.

Despite it all, there he was amongst the shadows. No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn’t keep away. It was as if some invisible force was driving him to be there. He needed to see… to hear… to beg forgiveness, but he couldn’t bring himself any closer than he was.

The funeral was taking place at The Burrow, exclusively for family and friends. Harry could feel the special spells and wards put around the property to keep the press away. Whether they were to cover Ron’s final goodbye or to see if Harry would show up, he would never know. He was close enough to hear, but too far away to see or be seen, as the ceremony commenced. All he could make out of the Weasleys were their red flaming hair. There were many others as well, no doubt Dumbledore among them.

It wasn’t a long funeral, and a monument was presented instead of a coffin. There would never be a body, for Ron would never be found. He was lost in an abyss between worlds, a fate that Harry had let him befall to. The memories of those moments became fresh and real as he heard the mournful cries of Mrs. Weasley. She had loved Harry like a son, been the closest to a mother he had ever had, and he had to go and betray her by letting Ron go. He was causing everyone he loved to feel pain.

"I know that’s you, Harry." Said a soft voice from behind him, suddenly.

Harry started and twirled around, his black tail between his legs. He had been sure no one would see him as an Animagus, and the only ones that knew of his form besides Sirius and the Society were Dumbledore, and Ron.

"Why are you hiding?" The owner of the voice stepped into view from the shadows, and there she was, just as beautiful as ever.

There was a soft shift in the fallen leaves, and Harry stood as himself away from her, refusing to look into her eyes.

"Dumbledore said that you wouldn’t be here, but that you would in some other way." Ginny said quietly. There was no tone of hurt or accusation in her voice.

"He told you then." Harry whispered dully, knowing Ginny would understand what he meant.

"Everyone is worried about you, me more than anyone. Hermione told me what happened back in Japan." She nodded.

Harry merely shrugged, masking his shame at yelling at one of his best friends.

"She’s not mad at you, you know." Ginny said, coming closer. "What has happened has been the hardest on you, she understands that."

He looked at her with his eyes narrowed, refusing to let his immediate thoughts speak.

"But you’re making it harder by keeping away, both for you and everyone else." She continued, now so close Harry could smell her faint sweet scent.

"I’m responsible for everything," he said finally. "There’s no way I can face everyone anymore. You should be appalled by me. You should hate me."

"Don’t be stupid," Ginny looked shocked, almost hurt. "I love you… and forgive you for whatever happened."

At her words a single tear rolled down both their cheeks. Harry finally brought himself to look into her eyes.

"Me being around would only be a constant reminder of Ron’s death. Don’t you see? I can’t do this to you, or your family. When I look into the mirror I don’t see myself anymore… I’m not the person I used to be! You’re better off without me, everyone is. Voldemort is dead; there’s no reason for the people to need me anymore. With me gone, you can forget and move on. I love you too much to cause you any more pain."

Ginny looked deep into his eyes then, the tears coming more freely. She didn’t say anything for a moment, but when she did her hands were shaking in fists.

"If you leave… if you leave me again, you will be causing me pain. Why can’t you realize what you are doing? You’re doing more harm now by keeping away than anything that you could ever possibly have done in the past. Mistakes are easily forgiven, but not if they’re made on purpose. I’ve waited for you all this time. Are you going to keep me waiting forever?"

Harry took her hand, and she squeezed it. She looked up at him in hope, expecting him to say what she wanted him to say. Yet, he shook his head, his eyes closed.

"I’m not worth waiting for, anymore. Goodbye, Ginny."

She dropped his hand and stumbled back as if he had slapped her. Her eyes were wide and confused, turning angry. Ginny shook her head slowly, glaring at Harry.

"You’re not the Harry I know. But I know he’s still there. You can tell the real Harry Potter that Ginny Weasley is still waiting for him, and she always will be."

And she turned her back and left, leaving him to stare longingly at her profile until he couldn’t make her out anymore. Another great loss left his heart as empty as a dried up well. He knew that this was the end, and there was no going back. Without looking at the place he used to love, Harry apparated back to Stag’s Head, where he would stay as a person he couldn’t recognize.