Going Back

I am dead. At first when I died, I merely lingered, not yet in a new body. I suppose immediately appearing in front of those by my bed would have scared them to death. Not that I died with all my friends and family by my bedside, as I often wished. Indeed, I have let all my friends slip through my fingers. I had the three greatest friends ever known to man, and I tossed them in the gutter.

Eventually, after I had been left to wonder what I had done to cause my spirit to wander like this, the body I am in now formed. It is an exact replica of my old one. Not of it the day that I died, but the day I left. The day I made the worst mistake of my life. It is not white or insubstantial - I am not a ghost - but neither does it age. Nor do I attract attention. I can be seen, but people's eyes tend to slide off me to the person next to me, or in front of me.

But that does not keep people from noticing that I have lived in the same place for fifty years and not grown older. When that happens, I move. And then again. And again. In this way I have weathered a thousand years.

The day I left. The worst day of my life. The worst mistake. The worst sin. We argued, fought. I do not think there was anyone in the castle who did not hear. He was right, I know that now. I was wrong. I will always be wrong. And I committed the act I most regret. I may not have physically killed anyone, but it was still murder. And murder of innocents, murder of children. But I was young, we were both young, and proud, and stubborn. But it is my fault. It will always be my fault. If I had not been so stubborn, or proud, or reckless... Or angry.

I cannot fix what I did. What do I have to do to go to rest?

And then I think about the proud, reckless boy I was. The stupid boy, the one who threw away the only things worth having. I have not changed.

It horrifies me, but it is true. I know what I must do. And I have made my decision.

I do not know if I can use magic anymore; I have not tried. So I take Muggle transport as close as I can. The man opposite me on the bus nods and forgets about me. The woman in the next seat on the train does not even notice me. I get off the train and walk the rest of the way to Hogsmeade.

The landscape has changed, a little, but I would know this path in my sleep. Indeed, I walk it every night in my dreams.

The grounds are empty; it is August. I make my way up to the doors and stop. But I must go in, how can I not? I pull them open and step inside. I am here, I am sorry. But nothing happens.

I make my way through the Entrance Hall and into the Great Hall, though I do not think it will change anything. My shoes make a slight noise on the marble floor, not what it should be, an echo that vibrates throughout the entire room, but more than they do anywhere else. Hogwarts knows. Hogwarts remembers. I cross to the middle of the room and stare at the two middle tables and the banners above them. Blue and bronze, yellow and black. I smile, and look at the other, where I have looked so many times before. Green and silver. Now I picture the hall the way it was on my first night here, on its very first dinner. The bustling noise, the warm colours, the companionship... And then it is just me, in the cold empty hall, and I know.

And then I turn towards the last table. Red and gold. And do what I should have done all those years ago.

"I'm back, Godric," I whisper. "And I'm sorry."