What if I fall
What if I don't
What if I never make it home
What if I bleed
What if I break
And I find that I can't take
city below the citadel
Holding my own hand…
Chapter Nine: All But Want
Nacht, heilige Nacht!
Alles schläft, einsam wacht…"
Harry's eyes flitted open from his deep sleep. The vocals of both Sirius and Reign still played pleasantly within the caverns in his head. He smiled to himself at the faint sound that had been left behind, tempted to just reach his hand over and wake Reign, when he noticed that the floor his eyes had focused on was not cement but wood. Old wood that creaked slightly under the added weight of his body.
His eyes grew wide at the finding. He lifted his head up to see other aspects of this new room, only to find that it wasn't new at all. It was the room he'd started out in. The green Victorian wallpaper was the same, teared and frayed in the same places as before, the wood floor was still worn from the many feet that had crossed over it in the past. He half smiled to himself as he stood up only too hear the ancient floor release another grand groan. He then turned around in amazement at the familiar room only to see the mirror of Erised and the white drape that had been on the mirror before he had removed it from view and had discarded it onto the floor.
He stared at the mess he'd left behind, the words from the night before once more filtered back into his head. He kept gazing at the shapes that had settled into the white sheet before he gained the courage to glance directly at the mirror. His eyes slowly drifted to the bottom of the mirror seeing the robes he'd first laid eyes on. His eyes dragged over the body before they finally landed on the face of his godfather.
He felt a reluctant sigh fall from out of his mouth. Harry just stared at the image, engulfed in it, before a small smile tugged at his lips. As he gazed at the familiar face another picture caught his eye. He turned his head down slightly to look at the new image.
Within the mirror, and the illusion of Sirius, Harry caught a reflection of himself in the mirror. It was not vivid nor was it an attempt to be a real reflection. It was simply just him seeing himself as if the mirror was more a plane of glass that had caught the light in such away that he could see himself within it.
Yet still, he couldn't seem to look away. To himself he seemed different. Stronger somehow. Even if he hadn't, for once, faced something life threatening it had changed him. He had gotten a glimpse of the one thing he had wanted for as long as he could remember. And like any true person with a "hero complex," as Hermione had so kindly put it months before, he had chosen to come back.
At least that was what he believed that was what he had done, and was in fact the reason he was back. He had seen now, first hand the horror that would have been left behind had his parents not sacrificed their life for me. The horror of everyday life, and he couldn't just leave his world to that fate.
So perhaps Hermione was right about him. Perhaps she wasn't. Time would be the only thing to tell, however much he still hated that phrase. He grinned at the image of himself within the much clearer version of his godfather, before he turned around to take a final look at the ancient room. He half smiled at the room as he thought that he'd rather not see it again, but merely shrugged his shoulders at the thought. If he did, he did, maybe then he could visit them again.
Harry shook his head at the very idea as his hand rested gently on the brass knob. No, that would be a bad thing. He was needed here with his friends, without those that he had lost. And he was perfectly fine with that epiphany. He would surely miss Sirius, and now the very real images of what he had missed out on with his parents, but he would survive.
"He is strong. I have faith in him."
The words Sirius had spoken in the other dimension (if that was indeed where he had been, for he still wasn't sure) filtered through his mind. He grinned slightly as he imagined the words coming out of Sirius' mouth once more, and knew instantly that the Sirius he had known in this world would surely have said the same.
Harry then took on final glance over his shoulder for one final look at Sirius only to find that the image had changed. Now reflected in the mirror was the image of the Weasley's, Hermione, Remus, other members of the order and school, that over the years he had befriended and loved. All of which were still very much alive. He felt his heart ache a bit with the want of seeing them again.
So with a small smirk playing on his lips, Harry looked up at the cracked ceiling, as so many do at times like these, and smiled widely, absolutely positive that he would make Sirius proud in the end. He then looked back down from the general direction of heaven to the doorknob. He turned the ancient knob that released a mild squeak from the rust that was undoubtedly inside it, until there was a soft click. He opened the door, poked his head outside for a quick survey of what was behind it only to look out and see the familiar hallway of the castle, and smiled once more.
He was home. And now all he wanted was to get back to his family.