CHAPTER TWO: A DIFFERENT COLORED JUMPER
Harry
woke up in stages. He was convinced,
upon opening his eyes and seeing only darkness, that he was somehow trapped in
the non-place between lives. His heart
thudded fast and painfully for a few moments, until he noticed the dimmed lamps
that glowed from high brackets on a wall before him. He knew then where he was, as the familiar
crisp linen sheets rustled beneath him and he cocooned himself deeper in his
soft blankets: he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He spent quite a lot of time there, over the
years. Just last year, he had had a memorable
and painful night as the bones in his right arm regrew after a bungled healing
attempt.
Just
last year . . . what did that even mean, now?
All those lives and memories swirled in his mind, but what was
especially clear was the life of Harry Potter, the man who had walked to his
death willingly. Was he now him, reborn
in a thirteen year old kid’s body?
A
bone-deep exhaustion, one that had been pushed aside by the rush of fear and
adrenaline upon waking, came back with a rush.
Unable to stay awake any longer, and truly not wishing to, Harry fell
asleep and dreamed ordinary dreams.
Harry
woke up in stages. He was convinced,
upon opening his eyes and seeing only darkness, that he was somehow trapped in
the non-place between lives. His heart
thudded fast and painfully for a few moments, until he noticed the dimmed lamps
that glowed from high brackets on a wall before him. He knew then where he was, as the familiar
crisp linen sheets rustled beneath him and he cocooned himself deeper in his
soft blankets: he was in the Hogwarts hospital wing. He spent quite a lot of time there, over the
years. Just last year, he had had a memorable
and painful night as the bones in his right arm regrew after a bungled healing
attempt.
Just
last year . . . what did that even mean, now?
All those lives and memories swirled in his mind, but what was
especially clear was the life of Harry Potter, the man who had walked to his
death willingly. Was he now him, reborn
in a thirteen year old kid’s body?
A
bone-deep exhaustion, one that had been pushed aside by the rush of fear and
adrenaline upon waking, came back with a rush.
Unable to stay awake any longer, and truly not wishing to, Harry fell
asleep and dreamed ordinary dreams.