Gordic's Hollow - Part 9

They walked up a hill to the area behind the cottage ruins, almost to the line of trees. Harry reckoned he could vaguely see the hint of blue that indicated how close they were to the ocean. It was a calm, peaceful resting-place. It was what Harry would have chosen for them.

Remus placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. "I'll give you a few minutes alone, but I'll be right over there if you need me," he said, walking back down the hill.

Harry looked down at the small stone marker baring the names of each of his parents. It seemed somehow fitting to him that they should share the same marker. He swallowed against the painful lump in this throat and sank to his knees beside the stone.

"Mum? Dad?" he whispered. "I'm here. I came back."

Harry swallowed again; he really didn't know what to say. "I wish…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He listened disjointedly to the sounds of birds in the trees, wondering how they could sound so cheerful when his own world was falling apart. He'd succeeded in finding one of the horcruxes, but did he have the strength to destroy himself? How could he tell Ron, Hermione and especially Ginny? He stared hopelessly at his parents' gravestone.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered brokenly. "I could really use some help here."

He waited for a moment, unmoving except for the increasing trembling of his body. He didn't know what he'd expected, but nothing had changed. The sky hadn't opened up with answers, and no great voice of wisdom directed him on where to begin. There was nothing here. His parents' bodies had been buried here long ago, but the only piece of them that was left behind was Harry. He'd had them with him all along.

Tentatively, he reached his hand towards the grave marker and ran his hand along the engraving of his parents' names. The pressure of his fingers tracing the letters was met with nothing but cold, unyielding stone. Harry shut his eyes tightly and willed the tears away.

Suddenly, it had all become too much. Harry wrapped his arms around himself and hung his head, as reality seemed to slip away.

Remus appeared next to him, but Harry didn't know how he'd got there. He wasn't real, anyway. Nothing was real.

Remus, who appeared very concerned, was speaking to him, but he wasn't really there. Words didn't mean anything anyway, because it was all just an illusion. Why wouldn't Remus stop calling his name?

He wasn't going to answer someone that wasn't really there.

He was walking now. Remus was leading him away – he couldn't form the words to tell him that he hadn't found what he'd been looking for in the first place. His legs felt heavy, and he could barely move them. The sudden, crushing sensation of being squeezed hit Harry like a blow, but he didn't cry out because it wasn't really happening.

Harry blinked and realized he was somewhere else. Headquarters, it looked like, but he wasn't really here. It was so very cold and there was nothing he could do to get the warmth back in his body. He stumbled but Remus caught him before he fell.

"Harry!" Remus's voice was harsh and slightly panicked. Harry remained silent.

Remus led him inside and into the main parlor. A great crowd of people was there, faces he knew but couldn't place. He didn't know why he was even trying, anyway. The room began to spin, making him feel nauseous. Voices rang out, calling to him, but he couldn't understand the words, so he ignored them.