The Difference in Reality [A Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Year 4: Chapter 18

Do not let your light burn out. The world needs you.

I'm the War Child.

You can con someone else into breaking their heart.

AVADA KEDAVRA!

"NO!" Willow shrieked.

She sat bolt upright, forgetting for a moment that she was in the hospital wing. Her clammy hands held her sheets in a death grip. Cold sweat poured down her forehead. Voldemort was here — He was going to kill Sally — Her father was in danger —

Then she remembered.

Voldemort was back. Sally was dead. Carlos was a Death Eater.

Nothing in the world could change that now.

Willow flopped back into her bed defeatedly. She slammed her head into the pillow, not caring that it hurt. Her whole body felt like she'd been run over by a fleet of trucks. No amount of soccer games, quidditch practice, or dueling would ever come close to how awful she felt right now. Her mental state had manifested in her body. For once, her powers weren't the ones killing her — but this was worse. Ten times worse.

"Willow?"

Willow startled so violently that she fell out of bed. Her knee struck the floor painfully, drawing an unwillingly yelp of pain from her lips. Willow scrambled for her wand before realizing there was no immediate threat. Her cheeks flamed as she slowly peeked above the bed frame. Harry's emerald green eyes stared back.

"Um...sorry," Harry apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Willow waved him off as climbed back into bed. "You're fine. I'm just..." She vaguely gestured with her hands. "Feelings."

"Feelings," Harry echoed. He slowly sat up, wincing when he moved his leg. "I think I understand the phrase 'Run over by a truck' now."

"Physically, or emotionally? Because I'm feeling both right now," Willow chuckled mirthlessly.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked. "Hermione mentioned something about you being at — that place."

"I was. I kind of...attacked the Death Eaters. When they, you know, tried to kill you. And stuff."

"'And stuff'?" Harry chortled. "That can mean a million different things coming from you, Willow."

"A thank-you would be nice," Willow teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thank you. Now, what in the hell did you do?"

Willow's chest tightened. "Uh...how to even begin...um..." She cleared her throat. "Let's just say you went through your ordeal, I went through mine. I'll tell you about it over the next few days? Weeks? Months? Who knows."

"...You lost someone."

Willow's head snapped up. Harry was staring at her with a kind of understanding that surpassed the extreme of despair. He knew. He had seen the light leave someone's eyes. A person only understands that kind of horror, that kind of helpless grief, if they've experienced it themself.

"You saw Cedric die," Willow whispered.

Harry looked away. "Yeah."

Willow heard the crack in his voice. It sliced open her own fragile heart. She took a deep breath before admitting, "I saw two people die yesterday."

"Who?"

"Paige's grandfather, then Sally."

Harry tensed up. "You lost a close friend. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked — "