Status: Complete
The Madness Within
The Madness Within
The nightmares had started up again. I looked up at the clock on the nightstand. Harry had woken at precisely 3:47 am, thrashing around, kicking, screaming. It happened at least three times a week now. He could never escape the War. It replayed over and over in his mind, and every night when he would wake up gasping, he’d grasp me tightly to make sure I was really there and that it was all over now.
“Harry? Harry! It’s alright, love. You’re safe. I’m here.”
I’d comfort him to the best of my ability, but it never seemed to be enough. No matter how hard I tried to make the nightmares go away, they always found a way to wiggle back in. Luna and Hermione helped me brew countless Dreamless Sleep potions, but they were starting to wear him down. As his psyche started to slowly deteriorate, I could feel mine tumbling over that cliff to join his.
I’d always loved Harry. I dreamed of the day we would be together, and those dreams and hopes were what helped me make it through all of the hardships of the War. I hoped that once we won the final battle at Hogwarts that this would all pass, and Harry and I could finally begin our lives together. Maybe we would have kids and get married, own a home not too far from the Burrow. We would prepare our children for their time at Hogwarts and enjoy living a happy, normal life like everyone else was trying to do.
I was so naive. Of course I expected that the healing process would take a while. What I had not expected, however, was how reluctant Harry’s mind seemed to be to adapting to his first real chance at a new life. A normal life. He seemed as though he wasn’t sure how to live anymore. He still tried to live as though he were being hunted, the paranoia embedded deep into his soul, melting away his spirit. Harry was a hollow shell of a man now. He spent his days shut away in his bedroom. I could hear the floor creak from where he had worn the boards thin after countless nights, countless hours, sitting in fetal position rocking back and forth, staring at the door.
He’d moved out of the room we shared not long after the nightmares began. After that, he started getting worse.
“It might help for me to be secluded for a while, Gin,” he told me. “I can’t keep putting all of this on you. It’s no good for either of us.”
I tried to fight him on this, of course, but he wouldn’t see reason anymore.
“Harry, there’s nothing wrong with needing help. I love you, and that’s why I’m here. Please don’t shut me out.” I beg.
He wouldn’t listen, though.
“Don’t tell me what I need, Ginny.”
Sometimes when he spoke, the voice coming out seemed unfamiliar to me. When you go through your whole life with someone, change is inevitable. You learn to love and accept those changes. But the one thing I never thought would change about Harry was his gentle, caring nature and warm heart.
When the nightmares wouldn’t cease, he did the only other thing he could think to do. He just stopped sleeping altogether, thinking it would make him better. His paranoia only got worse.
As his mind weakened, the combative nightmares and insomnia warped his perception and he became resentful of me. He hated that I seemed to be okay, that somehow the war wasn’t affecting me as badly as it was him because while he was falling spectacularly to pieces, I managed to find a routine in my life. What he didn’t seem to understand was how hard I had to try to push past my own pain so quickly so that I could be the woman he needed me to be. I would often hear him whispering to himself behind his locked bedroom door about how alone he was. He felt as though everyone was moving along with their lives, healing, and in turn, they left him all alone. He started declining lunches with Ron, blew off Hermione’s invitation to her wedding with Viktor Krum, ignored all of my requests to spend more time with him in an attempt to salvage what was left of our relationship.
It didn’t take Harry long to forget that he wasn’t the only one who lost people he loved in the war, that he wasn’t the only whose life got chewed up and spit back out in a thousand tiny pieces with nothing left to try and put them back together.
He walked around the tiny apartment we were renting in Muggle London, his eyes bloodshot red, pupils dilated. We moved here shortly after I graduated from my final year at Hogwarts. I agreed, thinking it would be good for both of us to get a break from the wizarding world. While they were rebuilding their lives, we needed to rebuild ours. I laugh at the irony now.
I thought back to the first time he stepped out of his room in nearly a week. He hadn’t come out to eat, drink, or even visit. He had sat in that room with nothing but his thoughts for company, and the fear had shown plainly. His face was contorted in such a fashion that you’d think someone was using the Cruciatus curse on him. Tears were streaming down his face, his hands shaking. His clothes hung loosely on his steadily shrinking body, and he smelled absolutely foul. I could smell his anxious sweating from across the room. His fingernails had been chewed down to the cuticles, dried blood caked all over them.
I walked over to him and placed my hand on his hollow cheek, my thumb gently grazing across his cheekbone which now protruded significantly from his face.
“Harry,” I whispered, unable to believe the man standing in front of me now.
He was so different from the man that had defeated Voldemort nearly two years ago. He looked lost, defeated.
“Ginny, I can still hear his voice in my head,” he says to me in a shaky voice. “He tells me things.”
“What things, Harry?”
“He tells me that he’s going to come back. He is going to kill you first.”
“Volde-”
“Don’t you dare say his name!” Harry screams, his hands clasped tightly over his ears.
I grab his hands and look into his eyes, “He is gone, love. No one is going to hurt you.”
“He wants to punish me, Ginny. He wants to punish you. I don’t know if I can stop him this time. There’s nothing left in me.”
I take a step back. Harry snatches his hands from my grasp and reaches inside his shirt. He pulls out his wand.
“There’s only one thing I can think to do, Gin. There’s only one way to save you all from him.”
He looks at me, his eyes empty. A small smile creeps across his lips.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you,” his voice had changed again, hoarse, yet low and smooth.
He raises his wand and points it directly at me. Before he can fire the spell at me, I scramble behind the couch. I’m exposed as the couch explodes behind me. I ran to my room and grabbed my own wand, summoning my Patronus to go to Hermione. As the horse gallops off, my bedroom door is flung open, and I’m met by a deranged version of the man I used to love. Somewhere along the way, perhaps all the time he spent in self-isolation, he had become possessed.
“Don’t run from me, Ginny! I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to protect you! Let me protect you before he gets you!”
He lunges at me. I had nearly managed to escape from his grasp, but I wasn’t fast enough. His fingers curled around the collar of my shirt and he snatches me onto the bed. Before I’m able to move, he’s positioned over me, pinning my hands over my head. With one hand, he throws my wand to the floor. His wand now pointed directly in my face.
“Harry, please. This isn’t you. I know it isn’t,” I could feel hot tears streaming down my face, clouding my vision.
“Expelliarmus!” I hear Hermione shout from behind me.
Harry is thrown off of me into the wall. I scramble up and grab my wand as I join Hermione. It doesn’t take him long to recover. He’s up and charging at us in an instant.
“I’m just trying to protect you!” He yells.
“Harry,” Hermione addresses him, “You’re not feeling very well. I’m here to help.”
She raises her hands in surrender. His wand pointed at us, he forced us into the living room. From behind him, Viktor sneaks into the room, his finger over his lips.
“All this time, Hermione. We thought he was dead, but he’s still here!” He points to his head, “He’s been talking to me. I know what he’s going to do to all of us. I can’t let that happen. I can’t fight him again. I don’t have it in me.”
“Harry, let them go,” Viktor says.
Harry whips around and without thinking, fires off a curse. He hits Krum square in the chest. He flies backwards into the door, but he’s dead before he even hits the floor. Hermione’s screams ring in my ears. I could hear in her voice how her heart had just shattered. She fell to her knees, her sobs making her shake violently.
In a moment of clarity, Harry stumbles back, realizing what he had just done. His eyes widen in disbelief. I could see him battling with his madness, despite what he had done. It was calling to him, and sooner or later, I knew he would succumb to it once again.
Shaking, I raise my wand and aim it at him.
“Avada kedavra.”
“Harry? Harry! It’s alright, love. You’re safe. I’m here.”
I’d comfort him to the best of my ability, but it never seemed to be enough. No matter how hard I tried to make the nightmares go away, they always found a way to wiggle back in. Luna and Hermione helped me brew countless Dreamless Sleep potions, but they were starting to wear him down. As his psyche started to slowly deteriorate, I could feel mine tumbling over that cliff to join his.
I’d always loved Harry. I dreamed of the day we would be together, and those dreams and hopes were what helped me make it through all of the hardships of the War. I hoped that once we won the final battle at Hogwarts that this would all pass, and Harry and I could finally begin our lives together. Maybe we would have kids and get married, own a home not too far from the Burrow. We would prepare our children for their time at Hogwarts and enjoy living a happy, normal life like everyone else was trying to do.
I was so naive. Of course I expected that the healing process would take a while. What I had not expected, however, was how reluctant Harry’s mind seemed to be to adapting to his first real chance at a new life. A normal life. He seemed as though he wasn’t sure how to live anymore. He still tried to live as though he were being hunted, the paranoia embedded deep into his soul, melting away his spirit. Harry was a hollow shell of a man now. He spent his days shut away in his bedroom. I could hear the floor creak from where he had worn the boards thin after countless nights, countless hours, sitting in fetal position rocking back and forth, staring at the door.
He’d moved out of the room we shared not long after the nightmares began. After that, he started getting worse.
“It might help for me to be secluded for a while, Gin,” he told me. “I can’t keep putting all of this on you. It’s no good for either of us.”
I tried to fight him on this, of course, but he wouldn’t see reason anymore.
“Harry, there’s nothing wrong with needing help. I love you, and that’s why I’m here. Please don’t shut me out.” I beg.
He wouldn’t listen, though.
“Don’t tell me what I need, Ginny.”
Sometimes when he spoke, the voice coming out seemed unfamiliar to me. When you go through your whole life with someone, change is inevitable. You learn to love and accept those changes. But the one thing I never thought would change about Harry was his gentle, caring nature and warm heart.
When the nightmares wouldn’t cease, he did the only other thing he could think to do. He just stopped sleeping altogether, thinking it would make him better. His paranoia only got worse.
As his mind weakened, the combative nightmares and insomnia warped his perception and he became resentful of me. He hated that I seemed to be okay, that somehow the war wasn’t affecting me as badly as it was him because while he was falling spectacularly to pieces, I managed to find a routine in my life. What he didn’t seem to understand was how hard I had to try to push past my own pain so quickly so that I could be the woman he needed me to be. I would often hear him whispering to himself behind his locked bedroom door about how alone he was. He felt as though everyone was moving along with their lives, healing, and in turn, they left him all alone. He started declining lunches with Ron, blew off Hermione’s invitation to her wedding with Viktor Krum, ignored all of my requests to spend more time with him in an attempt to salvage what was left of our relationship.
It didn’t take Harry long to forget that he wasn’t the only one who lost people he loved in the war, that he wasn’t the only whose life got chewed up and spit back out in a thousand tiny pieces with nothing left to try and put them back together.
He walked around the tiny apartment we were renting in Muggle London, his eyes bloodshot red, pupils dilated. We moved here shortly after I graduated from my final year at Hogwarts. I agreed, thinking it would be good for both of us to get a break from the wizarding world. While they were rebuilding their lives, we needed to rebuild ours. I laugh at the irony now.
I thought back to the first time he stepped out of his room in nearly a week. He hadn’t come out to eat, drink, or even visit. He had sat in that room with nothing but his thoughts for company, and the fear had shown plainly. His face was contorted in such a fashion that you’d think someone was using the Cruciatus curse on him. Tears were streaming down his face, his hands shaking. His clothes hung loosely on his steadily shrinking body, and he smelled absolutely foul. I could smell his anxious sweating from across the room. His fingernails had been chewed down to the cuticles, dried blood caked all over them.
I walked over to him and placed my hand on his hollow cheek, my thumb gently grazing across his cheekbone which now protruded significantly from his face.
“Harry,” I whispered, unable to believe the man standing in front of me now.
He was so different from the man that had defeated Voldemort nearly two years ago. He looked lost, defeated.
“Ginny, I can still hear his voice in my head,” he says to me in a shaky voice. “He tells me things.”
“What things, Harry?”
“He tells me that he’s going to come back. He is going to kill you first.”
“Volde-”
“Don’t you dare say his name!” Harry screams, his hands clasped tightly over his ears.
I grab his hands and look into his eyes, “He is gone, love. No one is going to hurt you.”
“He wants to punish me, Ginny. He wants to punish you. I don’t know if I can stop him this time. There’s nothing left in me.”
I take a step back. Harry snatches his hands from my grasp and reaches inside his shirt. He pulls out his wand.
“There’s only one thing I can think to do, Gin. There’s only one way to save you all from him.”
He looks at me, his eyes empty. A small smile creeps across his lips.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you,” his voice had changed again, hoarse, yet low and smooth.
He raises his wand and points it directly at me. Before he can fire the spell at me, I scramble behind the couch. I’m exposed as the couch explodes behind me. I ran to my room and grabbed my own wand, summoning my Patronus to go to Hermione. As the horse gallops off, my bedroom door is flung open, and I’m met by a deranged version of the man I used to love. Somewhere along the way, perhaps all the time he spent in self-isolation, he had become possessed.
“Don’t run from me, Ginny! I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to protect you! Let me protect you before he gets you!”
He lunges at me. I had nearly managed to escape from his grasp, but I wasn’t fast enough. His fingers curled around the collar of my shirt and he snatches me onto the bed. Before I’m able to move, he’s positioned over me, pinning my hands over my head. With one hand, he throws my wand to the floor. His wand now pointed directly in my face.
“Harry, please. This isn’t you. I know it isn’t,” I could feel hot tears streaming down my face, clouding my vision.
“Expelliarmus!” I hear Hermione shout from behind me.
Harry is thrown off of me into the wall. I scramble up and grab my wand as I join Hermione. It doesn’t take him long to recover. He’s up and charging at us in an instant.
“I’m just trying to protect you!” He yells.
“Harry,” Hermione addresses him, “You’re not feeling very well. I’m here to help.”
She raises her hands in surrender. His wand pointed at us, he forced us into the living room. From behind him, Viktor sneaks into the room, his finger over his lips.
“All this time, Hermione. We thought he was dead, but he’s still here!” He points to his head, “He’s been talking to me. I know what he’s going to do to all of us. I can’t let that happen. I can’t fight him again. I don’t have it in me.”
“Harry, let them go,” Viktor says.
Harry whips around and without thinking, fires off a curse. He hits Krum square in the chest. He flies backwards into the door, but he’s dead before he even hits the floor. Hermione’s screams ring in my ears. I could hear in her voice how her heart had just shattered. She fell to her knees, her sobs making her shake violently.
In a moment of clarity, Harry stumbles back, realizing what he had just done. His eyes widen in disbelief. I could see him battling with his madness, despite what he had done. It was calling to him, and sooner or later, I knew he would succumb to it once again.
Shaking, I raise my wand and aim it at him.
“Avada kedavra.”