Ghost of My Former Self

Harry's head was in his hands. His scar was burning, but that was nothing unusual. Voldemort's power was increasing, and it was only a matter of time before Voldemort made his move. Harry looked up at the red-head and brunette sitting before him. "Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book she was reading. Harry could see the concern in her eyes.

The trio were the only ones sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else had gone to bed, but they stayed up. Hermione, as per usual, was studying; Ron was up late writing an essay due tomorrow for Snape; and Harry, well, Harry was supposed to be studying. There was no way he could though. The book was in his lap, but he couldn't focus; he couldn't concentrate.

"Does it look like I'm okay?" Harry snapped. Hermione recoiled back, seeming to regret even bringing it up. "Sorry, Hermione. Things have been stressful lately. There's something going on here. The Ministry's getting out of control, Draco is clearly up to something, and Dumbledore has me helping him with something. I don't know if I can handle all of that, plus school. Voldemort is turning my life upside-down."

"And, your scar? Is it hurting, mate?" Ron implored.

"I wouldn't be holding it if it wasn't," Harry shot back.

"I was only asking, Harry," Ron proclaimed defensively.

"That's besides the point, Ron," Hermione argued, coming to Harry rescue. "Out of everyone, Harry deals with the most. And, remember, we're prefects." She set her book down on the table, slamming it shut. "Harry deals with more than we'll ever know thanks to the bond he has with Voldemort. Do then try to be a little more considerate."

"Yes, Hermione," Ron said, with disdain.

The scar continued burning and it soon it became too much for Harry. He set the book down on the table and headed towards the staircase. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Maybe some sleep will help."

Hermione did not bother to look up from Ron's essay that she so viciously snapped away from Ron a few moments before. She just waved a goodbye. Ron looked over. "Good night, mate!"

After changing into his pajamas and climbing into bed, a thought occurred to him. What would have happened if Voldemort never existed? What might have happened if Tom Riddle Sr. and Merope Gaunt never had a child together? Harry remembered what Dumbledore told him about Voldemort's history. But, he wondered what might have occurred if the past was rewritten. It was that final thought that passed through Harry's head before drifting peacefully asleep, the burning sensation in his scar fading away to nothingness.