After the Battle Of Hogwarts

Chapter 2

When he finally awoke it was to the sound of voices outside his small closet, floating toward him like a song. At first the voices were far too slurred to make any sense at all, but after shaking himself awake Harry could make out some words. Most of the voices were easy to recognize, however some were raspy and confusing.

There were men outside discussing the wings of the building- of which there were many. At first thought, Harry figured they'd been checking the wings for bodies or hiding death eaters, but hadn't that already been done?

Finally, he heard a woman's voice that he recognized but could not put a face to. "Where's Harry? Haven't you found him?" He strained for the familiar hilt that rang in Ginny's voice, but it was most defiantly not her. The voice shuttered, as if the speaker were crying.

"We're looking. There are just two more halls to be checked." McGonagall answered, "Now if you'd both please just follow me," It sounded like she was stained and maybe a little startled.

The men continued talking. Some feet shuffled down the hall, when finally the voice of the person whom I'd confided in since the very beginning of my first year came forward, "This is all ridiculous. Harry will come find us eventually,"

"Ronald, how can you say that? He was fine for a moment then he completely changed. Everything changed. What if he's hurt and won't tell us?" It was Hermione, always the voice of reason.

Her voice rose higher as she spoke. What had happened to him? He felt empowered and accomplished when the battle was over but now, just hours later, he felt deflated and defeated more than anything.

"But honestly," Hermione continued, "there are spells to track him. There's the map-"

"Which we can't find. So there's no point in trying to use it," Ron finished.

The map is gone? The Marauders map?

Harry had forgotten where he was. In a dank closet. Shrouded in trash. The voices of his friends drifted away before he finally noticed that he had been staring intently at the door with his mouth wide, as if having it agape helped him listen. The closet felt cold, and much too dark, he'd spent so much time in the dark.

In fact, it was a bit ironic that he was hidden away in this closet, considering he'd spent most of his young life in one. Had someone ever told him that he'd go back to a closet willingly he would have laughed in their face.

Finally the darkness became too much, his heart began to race and his skin to crawl, he pulled out his newly restored wand and waited for the light to appear. The light did not appear, even as he repeated it over and over in his head, lumos, lumos, until he was saying it aloud, "Lumos, Lumos," but to not avail.

He couldn't produce a tiny beam of light, and couldn't take no for an answer. The more he tried the worse he felt, until he was crying. The dark closed him in, he could no longer see he door. There was no sense of direction.

He got up, stumbling. He felt along the walls for the door but his hands connected with rough wooden shelving and broken objects. There was no door to be found, his silent tears were making his shirt wet.

"Harry? HARRY," Ginny called from down the hall. Harry had almost forgotten about them looking for him. He stopped, wiping his eyes, finally the door opened and light streamed in. There she was, standing in the doorway, "Harry? Come out," She motioned to him, she was so beautiful.

She didn't step a foot in the door, instead she coaxed him toward her. It gave him an uneasy feeling. Was he really so bad that she couldn't approach him? Perhaps they had told her to stay away from him?