Lover of the Light

Past, Meet the Present

Lover of the Light

Chapter Four: Past, Meet the Present

September 1st had arrived too slowly that year, just as he's always remembered it. Though he wasn't looking for an escape, for the highlight of the day that he had to be dropped off at King's Cross Station to finally leave Privet Drive, making his way hurriedly through the people, hoping to make the seconds fly so he could find those he called best friends, Harry Potter found that the atmosphere was still thick with worry and conflict.

It'd been a few weeks since the final battle between Light and Dark, and the people had begun to try and put the pieces of their life together again, but there was still a gaping hole among them; among everyone. There were fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, and other loved ones missing, making their lack of presence weigh down on the society that lost them. There was a sense of almost calm in the air, that was definite, but no one paid any attention to it because their souls were filled with grief. They were looking for peace, of course, but after such bloodshed there was bound to be irreversible consequences.

"Good turn out."

He didn't know exactly what was supposed to happen after the war. He had never really had a chance to think about what happens after it all came to an end, all he was ever concentrated on was ending Voldemort before he ended him. He's job had been to fight for something greater, for something made up of justice and love; all while experiencing loss, after loss, after loss. He'd known there was a good chance that he wouldn't have made it out alive, it was in the Prophecy after all, so planning a future wasn't in his immediate planning back then.

"It's calm, is it not?"

It had been a little over three months since the final battle took place, three months with the future open and blank before him. His present days had been between trying to assist to rebuild the castle, which McGonagall had forbidden, declining the offer to get right into the Auror Department, all because people wanted him to finish his education, and just breathing and avoiding the obvious.

He's natural mechanism was to push people away, and he was, but this time there wasn't anger and frustration to smooth over and conquer over his conscience. His conscience was most definitely alive and awake, and it was pulling him in two different directions. One side wanted him to feel incredibly guilty, to flee and hide and never be seen again because of the destruction he'd caused. Yet the other side, with doses of guilt, was almost selfish; it demanded a chance at a proper life.

"There's a bit too much security here. Personally, I think Kingsley might have exaggerated a bit. Don't you think Percy?"

Blinking away from his own thoughts for a moment, Harry finally turned to Arthur Weasley, who'd been talking since the moment they crossed the barrier onto the platform. He was standing next to his wife—who'd grown almost too quiet these days—an arm wrapped around her shoulders in that ever-constant comforting way, and there was a forced smile stretching on his kind face. He looked at those around him, and Harry couldn't miss the fact that he was the only one ever trying to gather the clutter his family was left in and fix them with what was left.

But there were consequences, damaging ones, and it had reached the Weasley family like it had the rest of the world. Percy was there with them, badge on his robes indicating his association with the Ministry, but his pompous attitude and authoritative look was gone from his persona. He just stood there, like he was trying to blend with the background and never be seen. There was remorse living and taking over his brown eyes too, holding him captive in a way with all the regrets that he bore.

George was also there, practically forced out of his flat above the shop by Mrs. Weasley to accompany them to say goodbye to his siblings. The perfect excuse to rip him away from haunting memories and reflective mirrors. And because of that, Harry found that George was one of the two toughest Weasleys to look at. Just one glimpse of him and one was instantly filled with grief, despair, misery, and unsettling waves of sympathy. He wasn't even a man of almost twenty, he was just the shell of what was supposed to be.