Chapter 23 Wishful Thinking
Harry felt like he had sprinted across miles and miles of brutal tidal waters. His clothes were soggy from all the lingering snow, when he collapsed into it earlier. On his journey back to the castle, he had purposely delayed his remorseful bike pedals, because he simply didn’t know how he could ever talk to his friends again. Unfortunately, the inevitable must be met, and he would have to face the music.
Exhausted with his head down and not knowing how he was going to confront Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, he was unmindful of his unusual companion, a white bird he spotted earlier that had been following him in the skies. As he hurled his bike across the fields in frustration, it landed right at someone’s feet. Poking his head up and ready to apologize, he realized the stranger was Dumbledore, who suddenly appeared in front of him, and his demeanor was just as exhausted.
It had been awhile since the last time Harry had spoken to Dumbledore. A streak of anger erupted inside his veins; he was mad for his lying to him about the cause of his comatose condition last year. At the sight of his elongated beard, he was wondering mockingly what else was hidden underneath the white rug, and whether he was using it to conceal more facts from him, thinking he was too young to handle reality, just like the many other significant incidents affecting his life.
On the other hand, seeing him slouching and seemingly having aged significantly with his drained downcast eyes, he refrained his fury. Admittedly, he could not blame Dumbledore or anyone else for his reckless actions last year. His mistakes were his own.
Dumbledore maneuvered around the twisted bicycle and stretched out his arm wearily, apparently wanting him to come closer, because Harry deliberately put a lot of distance between them.
“Harry, please come with me to my office,” he muttered heavily with a dithering voice as he pulled his head down. “And… it’s not because of you launching a bicycle at me. It’s… Miss Ryan.
“She’s “ Sam’s in -- St. Mungo’s Hospital…” Dumbledore handed him a cloak somberly. It was his invisibility cloak.
Harry thought his spine had been snapped in two pieces. Judging from the seriousness and grimness of his tone, something terrible must have happened. No words were coming out of his mouth because a bubble of air was jammed in his throat from all the crying earlier, but his eyes were blazing with fear and guilt as he found himself being steered hastily by Dumbledore’s lethargic arm towards the castle. For Harry, having to hear about his friends and loved ones getting hurt was particularly harsh, because he always wondered guiltily if he was the reason for their sufferings. He didn’t have many loved ones in his life to begin with, and often times he would rationalize this was actually for the better, since he was still convinced that people whom he treasured would consistently suffer a terrible fate at the end.
Harry had suspected his mentee was ill but because he was busy in glee over Ginny, he never showed any concern or bothered to mention it to anyone. His guilt compounded after seeing the cloak; he understood she must have headed to Hogsmeade by herself with it.
Before they reached the entrance, Harry stumbled out of Dumbledore’s arm sharply and cut in front of his hurried path when his guilt finally burst the bubble in his throat, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER?”
“I’ll explain everything afterwards, but right now… it’s important that you go see her,” Dumbledore placed both hands on his shoulders and guided him forward urgently. “We’ll use the portkey in my office.”
Moving unwillingly, Harry continued to swallow his rage that was threatening to spit itself out as they marched inside. At this juncture, he didn’t know what he should be feeling. His remorse towards Ginny, his guilt towards Samantha, his anger at Dumbledore for all the persistent cover-ups and treating him like a child, and his ultimate hatred for himself were all entangling mulishly in his mind, fighting their way to his twitching lips, wanting to be voiced, seeking to be heard, and striving to be resolved. But too many things had happened these past few days: the roller-coaster ride of emotions, the punishing return of his painful memories… he was suffocating and simply couldn’t make sense of them all. As usual, he stubbornly locked all these competing emotions inside his gut.
Sensing Dumbledore’s grip tightening on his shoulders and judging from his bleak expressions, he realized the urgency of Samantha’s condition. Now was not the time to fight him, he thought to himself. Quickening his steps, he was determined that at this moment, Samantha’s well-being had to be his first priority. He would once again place someone else’s interests ahead of his own, and the anguish about his memory recovery and Dumbledore’s role in it would have to be pushed to the background.
The last time Harry visited St. Mungo’s Hospital was a scene of horror, when Dumbledore dueled with Voldemort, leaving behind destruction beyond belief. He could not believe he was standing in the same hospital. It was as if that battle never happened. Everything had been restored, and the decor was enhanced with beautiful Christmas decorations. Harry had forgotten Christmas was fast approaching, but the decorations certainly could not lift up the Christmas spirits, based on the children’s long faces. Curiously, as he marched along, he noticed there were many distressed looking children roaming in the corridors.
“Professor, why are so many children in the hospital?”
“Harry, they are children of wizards and witches. We decided to keep them here on a temporary basis because…” Dumbledore paused tentatively, contemplating whether he should alarm him with the truth.
“It has something to do with Voldemort, doesn’t it?” Harry jumped in impatiently before Dumbledore was able to make up his mind.
“There have been a few kidnappings -- tactics used by Deatheaters -- to coerce wizards and witches to join Voldemort,” he replied sparingly to Harry’s irritated expressions. “Deatheaters have resorted to kidnapping defenseless children, holding them hostage, using love and kinship as weapons...
“By grouping them here, we can ensure their collective safety by concentrating all our security efforts to one location… at least on a temporary basis.
“But we must think of a more permanent solution…” Dumbledore smoked off his words when his eyes caught Harry’s hands, which were in balls of fists.
“Harry, I hesitated to tell you this because I don’t want you to get involved. Let the Order handle this.”
Suddenly, a door ahead of them slammed open as two healers marched out, shaking their heads.
“That’s the ward Sam is staying at,” Dumbledore sighed despairingly.
“Professor, before I go, please tell me what is wrong with Samantha.”
“A Hogsmeade storekeeper… saw her…”
He leaned closer, “Saw her what?”
“Faint…” he answered vaguely.
Harry covered his face that was immersed in shame, “I should not have lent her the invisibility cloak! She wouldn’t have gone by herself if she didn’t have it! I was too obsessed with going to Ginny’s quarters--”
“Harry, it’s not your fault. This was inevitable. Her condition…”
He cocked his head at Dumbledore piercingly.
“Sam… I’m afraid… she’s going to leave us…”
It was like every fiber in Harry’s body suddenly short-circuited from utter shock. All he could do was to stare at Dumbledore penetratingly, who had a twinkle in his weary eyes.
“Please go in and see her. I’ll… wait here and… explain everything later,” Dumbledore gently nudged him on the shoulder.
Too stunned to think, Harry could visualize himself approaching the door gravely, and every step felt more surreal than the last, as if his feet belonged to someone else. As he arrived at the doorway, he peered timidly through the glass to discover the hospital ward was empty but for one tiny patient with gray hair, lying helplessly in her bed. To his horror, it was Samantha. He had never seen her like this before, so vulnerable and fragile. This was the same girl, who just earlier in the day had schemed to help sneak him into Ginny’s room. An icy chill swam through his body; it pained him to see that her silver hair had lost all their shine, and her cheeks were whiter than her bed sheets.
Harry had forgotten how brittle and tiny she actually was. Looking at her from afar, he realized her menacing presence, daring behavior, and shrieking voice had been overshadowing her physical smallness in his mind all this time. In contrast, the little girl in front of his eyes had lost all of her authority; she was simply lying desolately in the hospital bed, and she appeared to be crying.
He could recall how much he disliked her at the beginning, calling her a brat, a chatterbox, and dismissing her and everything that came out of her mouth. However, as the months went by, he grew to like her as the little sister he never had. She was no longer just his mentee. After the completion of their mentoring assignments at the end of the school year, he was positive he would continue his friendship with her and to look out for her like a big brother. He would love to have her become a part of his circle of friends. He cared about her.
Just as Harry was about to open the door, he noticed a recognizable snowy owl was perched next to her, clutching a very familiar pale blue box. It was Hedwig.
“Hedwig, please bring this box to… Ginny’s room,” muttered Samantha somberly, securing the box onto her claw. “I won’t make it out of here so you’re… the only one that can do this for them…
“Just remember to check before going in… because…” she continued, “Harry might… still be… in Ginny’s room as we speak, so you may have to wait a little while… I don’t want you… to intrude on them.”
Hedwig gazed at her sympathetically, lingering in her bed, seemingly refusing to leave her.
“No need to be sad. You and I both care about Harry very much. We both know Harry’s happiness resides in Ginny and only Ginny. I still remember how you uncovered Ginny’s paper plane last year and when Harry asked you who wrote the poem, you didn’t know how to tell him so you brushed your wing at me.”
She stroked her feathers solemnly, “We must help him find her back. It’s just that at this point I can no longer be of service to him. There are some things that can’t be controlled… my feelings for him…”
Her words were interrupted by a severe cough. After panting choppily, she continued, “Hedwig, when this is over, Harry’s life will be so much better, and you’ll be a part of his happiness. I’m sure everything will work out for the best for all of you.
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry about me. After I leave, my heartache should stop. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be in a different world… my cries for him will stop… when he’s too far away for me to cry for.
“This is my only path. When my feelings for him are no more, my suffering will be gone too. No one will ever know about what happened to me except you and Dumbledore…”
Hedwig continued to linger on her bed and she let out a disapproving hooting sound, apparently in deep disagreement with something she said. Lying in her heap of hopelessness, Samantha ignored her objections. Instead, she chose to walk down memory lane for the sake of reliving her times with him.
“WOE…WOE…” Harry squirmed, covering his backside with his hands. “Sam, there’re certain places your hands shouldn’t go--”
“Get real, Harry! I was just trying to straighten out the tail! Perfect!”
Samantha smiled tearfully, thinking back to the time when she tricked him into wearing the costume she secretly made for him. She remembered how she relied heavily on her jokes and insults to hide her true feelings for him until she ran out of mean things to say. All this time, she would dodge his sparkling gaze, fearing he could detect her feelings she was trying to mask behind her twinkling gray eyes.
“Sam, your hair’s longer now,” Harry smiled melodiously. “I think you look cute with long hair. That buzz cut was… freaky. Maybe that thick boy of yours you keep telling me about will notice you now.”
Her smile broadened; she was satisfied the thick boy did at least notice her at one point. At that brief moment, she did fantasize about the impossible, about being with him together, but the dream ended before it started. Shortly after he complimented her appearance, Ginny rightfully took back the spotlight when she marched downstairs looking as beautiful as ever, and Samantha quickly and voluntarily returned to the background of unimportance.
She learned that love is cruel and it can make people do foolish things. Just like her, she would succumb to the spell and she found herself doing everything to help Harry, despite knowing she would get nothing in return and was destined to play the role of his annoying little sister. Nevertheless, she had no regrets. She didn’t regret all the things that had happened, her actions and her sacrifices. In fact, she was grateful to him, for allowing her to experience these captivating human feelings. These past three months had been her best times of her abbreviated existence.
“Hedwig, take care of Harry, okay?” she pleaded and nudged her to move along.
After Samantha kissed her visitor softly on the feathery head, they gazed to their final goodbyes before Hedwig flew out of the open window with the box. Watching the owl disappear into the sunset, her last visitor was gone, she thought to herself. She could close her withering eyes and let all her tears flicker her face and body away. She would forfeit her last chance to admire her final sunset, because it was just not as enchanting without him to enjoy it with.
“Harry, it’s such a gorgeous sunset! A bit windy though! Promise me you’ll… stay here and… enjoy it for a while! See ya!” she could still remember the evening when she dragged him to the bushes to watch Ginny and Oliver practice on the eve of the competition.
Even though she could hear the sound of the opening door and incoming footsteps, she kept her eyes closed. She knew it wasn’t relevant to her anymore, knowing she would have no more visitors. The visitor she really wanted to see was currently happily enjoying himself in the room of his favorite girl alone. She was wondering hopefully what they were presently doing.
“Harry must be insisting on a kiss, but Ginny is refusing him because she doesn’t want to give him a cold, so they are bickering about it,” she joked to herself.
She was convinced she possessed no regrets and she had left absolutely nothing behind, so she could embark on her journey with no need of turning back, but if only she could see him just one more time, touch his true smile, and hear his voice call out her name once again…
”Samantha…”
“Samantha…”
The Boy Next Door by gossipweaver
Chapter Notes: She would love to see him just one more time, touch his true smile, and hear his voice call out her name once again… before she goes…