Chapter 184: 4-3
It was our final night. Half-asleep, I dozed comfortably as my mother—who still wanted to look after me as usual—dried my hair. Lily’s voice, clear and pleasant as a chiming bell, naturally served as a lullaby.
"Hey, do you mind if I take a guess?"
"At what?"
"Harry is the older brother, isn't he?"
My eyes fluttered open. I met the green eyes that had once been my own. Harry's eyes—Albus's eyes—and my mother Lily's eyes smiled mischievously at my widened hazel ones.
"How did you know? Most people assume I'm the older sister."
Even though I myself live my life acting the part.
As I looked for her to reveal her secret, Lily smiled and stroked my shoulder. Her perfectly brushed red hair slipped smoothly down her neck and over her shoulders.
"Of course I know. I'm your mother, after all... just kidding."
Matching red hair reflected in the mirror. Anyone looking would assume we were sisters. They would know we were blood-related. And yet—the girl in the reflection did not look like a mother to me.
"To tell you the truth, there's no real reason. I just had a feeling. By the way, James and Sirius think you're the older sister. Remus and Peter are on my side. Honestly, your father has no eye for these things, does he?"
Her youthful voice, rolling and tickling my ears, coaxed a smile onto my lips. There was an identical face in the mirror. The hair color, the facial contours, even the shape of our lips. If anything, we looked more like siblings than I did with my actual brother, Harry.
"Right now is the only time we'll ever get to have you call us Mum and Dad, isn't it?"
"...Yeah." I nodded, swallowing hard.
"Our children's names will surely be Harry and Maria—but they won't be you. You and I were never originally meant to meet as parent and child."
"That's right."
"This is a miracle that shouldn't exist, isn't it?"
Thump. My mother—the girl who was yet to become a mother—sat down next to the girl who used to be her daughter. In the reflection, a portrait of a mother and daughter who looked like sisters was complete.
"Was I able to be a bit of a mother to you? Even if just for this brief moment?"
"...Mum Lily."
I thought to myself. The one who truly gets to call these people Dad and Mum isn't me; it's the other me, Harry. My—Maria's—father is the man who stood wandless against Voldemort that day, and my mother is the woman who stood shielding us until the very end. —It is the two of you who died. Not you, who are alive and smiling right now in this very moment. Therefore, I realized. The miracle ends here.
"It was fun. Getting to be your mother."
"I had fun too. Getting to be your daughter. —Though it would have been even better if I were your son."
"Oh my! Maria, did you perhaps want to be a boy? Is that why you dress like that? ...How complicated. If only I could have given birth to you as a boy."
"It's fine. I've accepted being Maria now—and there are some things you can only reclaim because you're a woman. ...I chose this gender myself."
I leaned against my mother's shoulder. Resting my head against her, I felt a slight twinge of embarrassment at finding the exact same softness I knew from Ginny.
This person is a woman. And I, Maria, am... a woman, too.
Now, late at night, well past curfew. Maria and Harry sat facing each other in the Gryffindor common room. Harry looked completely calm, and looking into those clear green eyes, I suddenly found myself wondering—is this the face I make when I have no doubts?
"We can save them now, Harry."
"Yeah."
"We can protect Sirius from false charges."
"Yeah."
"We can hide Regulus from Voldemort."
"Yeah."
"We can stop Pettigrew's betrayal."
"Yeah."
"Dad and Mum... are alive."
"Yeah."
He was so gentle. The green—the symbol of both destiny and death—was soft. He could swallow the temptations of an illusion—the temptations of me—along with all the pain. —My other self, Harry, was capable of that.
"Which one is your reality? Go on, choose, Harry Potter!"
And so, Harry...
—took my hand, his smile crumpling through his tears.
"I am alive. Therefore... I must not seek out the dead."
Tears spilled from his green eyes.
"Even if, when you wake up, I—Maria—won't be there?"
"I have to accept it, don't I? Because you're cruel, you think I can do it. And as long as you believe that—I'll grit my teeth and strive to be exactly that. Because I'm your older brother. Since what I must keep my eyes on isn't the dead, but the lives I hold in these hands—you won't allow me to look back."
"Exactly right, Harry Potter."
I placed my hands on Harry's cheeks, which were streaming pitifully with tears. The droplets cooled the flushed, burning heat of his skin. They wet my fingers and fell.
"Maria."
Ah, thank goodness. Feeling relieved from the very bottom of my heart, I smiled at my other self, who was trying to walk a different path in life even at this very moment.
As I thought, you—I—would arrive at that conclusion. Just like that day when we were able to leave our parents and my young 'self' to die, borrowing the warmth of family—you can shake off the sweet allure of death and tightly hold the hand of those living in the present.
"That is truly Harry Potter."
I stroked his lightning-bolt scar and pressed my forehead against his. It was quiet. It felt incredibly similar to the time before we entered Hogwarts, back when his body and soul were young, innocent, and tiny, and we quietly breathed together under the cupboard blanket.
Perhaps that was why. And then—Harry continued in a youthful tone that perfectly matched his appearance.
"Ginny, Ron, and Hermione aren't here. Could a Harry Potter without them even exist?"
Finally, we forgot our melancholy, opened our mouths wide, and laughed together. After all, we were thinking the exact same thing. Seeking the exact same thing, we let go of our love for the dead. —This is exactly why I am so thoroughly arrogant!
"Harry."
"Maria."
Holding on to each other's hands, supporting each other—or perhaps leaning on each other—we stood in front of the portrait hole leading out of the common room. We stifled our laughter at the faintly audible snoring of the Fat Lady... or rather, her dynamic slumbering breaths.
"Are you ready?"
"Not in the slightest. But I'm moving forward. That's how my life has always been up until now, hasn't it?"
"No doubt about it."
I bitterly affirmed Harry's self-deprecating grumble. We've always had to keep running before our readiness could ever catch up with us. Being chased by destiny means exactly that. That is 'Harry the Hero'.
We pushed the door open together, using small palms that hadn't even fully gotten used to holding a wand yet. The dim light of the lanterns cast strange, monstrous shadows in the corridor. The overlapping silhouette of Harry and me stretched deep into the hallway. —It had to look strange. Because there were shadows for three people.
Standing beyond the door was a dead man, draped in the Cloak of Invisibility—the cloak meant to hide one from Death.
""Dad.""
"You'll at least let me see you off, won't you?"
Catching the bad kids sneaking out of their dormitory in the dead of night, James Potter smiled childishly, looking as if he were about to say, Mischief Managed!
"Is it just you, Dad?"
"Yeah. It's so late, everyone else is fast asleep. Lily... is sulking. She's surprisingly childish, that one."
"I know."
"Just like Maria."
Click, clack. Three lonely sets of footsteps descended the stairs. I was at the front, James brought up the rear, and Harry was sandwiched between us. Like the Maria who had guided me 'that time', I had been bracing myself to serve as a guidepost for Harry, but the sense of security that came from being watched over by my father made Harry's and my steps surprisingly light.
"Were you listening to our conversation?"
"For the most part."
Harry and I both stared blankly at our father's nonchalant reaction. We had assumed that if anyone learned the truth, he would be the one to make the biggest fuss.
"Of course, it'd be a lie to say I'm not bothered. The stuff about Sirius's false imprisonment, or Regulus... Sirius's little brother, right? I never thought we'd interact with that lot in the future. And also—that Wormtail would betray us. I never thought he had the guts."
"You end up getting betrayed precisely because you underestimate him like that."
"That hurts to hear."
My father flashed a grin, but it was entirely superficial, showing absolutely no signs of remorse. I couldn't help but glare up at him intently. My mindset was rapidly shifting from being this man's daughter into the paternal headspace I used when scolding my own child, James Sirius. Honestly, he really is a perfect role model for his grandson!
"Ah, wait. Don't be mad, Maria. I just—I just wanted to properly give you my blessing."
James, having sensitively and craftily detected my anger, hurriedly tried to smooth things over. A blessing—? Harry and I tilted our heads in unison, wondering what he meant. Without skipping a beat, Dad continued breezily.
"I said Papa wouldn't approve, but I'll take that back. I don't want to be a father who can't wish for his daughter's happiness."
"..."
Clack. The footsteps stopped.
"You knew that you could be happy with him—that's why you chose Draco, right? You will absolutely be happy, won't you?"
Ah. So that was it. It was just that.
"—Yeah."
"In that case—if your happiness lies there, then even if you eloped with a demon... I forgive you."
It was the face of a father. They were the words of a father. Sending off his child—it was the smile of a mere young man playing the role of a parent.
"Because, surely... 'your' father would have said the exact same thing."
"Gasp—"
"It might be a bit unreliable for someone as young as me to speak on his behalf, though—" the young man laughed. I swallowed hard so my voice wouldn't tremble. I aggressively reprimanded my throbbing, burning heart, telling it that I couldn't break down here.
In truth, our parents would never get to know any of this. Not Harry and Ginny getting married and having a family, nor Maria (me) living out the future alongside Draco. We could never receive words of forgiveness or a veil of blessings from them. We cannot receive the voices of the dead. That alone could never come true... or so it should have been.
"Be happy with the ones you love. Harry, Maria."
""Yes.""
I held back my tears and nodded firmly. Even if he was only 'speaking on their behalf'—we had definitively just received our parents' prayers for our future.
I won't look back anymore. Even if the footsteps behind us dwindled to just two. Even if we were confronted with the harsh reality that all the happiness here was just a phantom of the past—we would simply keep walking straight ahead down these stairs.
"Hey, Maria," Harry murmured.
It was supposed to be night, yet faint, thin rays of light were shining through the exit. It was cliché, but this counterfeit world was asserting that from here on out lay the path for the living.
"Is this all happening inside my head?"
I couldn't help but smile.
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry."
Now, only one step remained. The thin light grew brighter as we got closer, and now it seemed to burn my eyes. It was strong and violent. —It was a living light.
I thought about the heavy, sinewy hand of the man holding mine. Was I really able to become your Maria? Could an empty shell like me fulfill the role of Maria the guidepost? —It doesn't matter if I couldn't. I'm sure you don't need Maria anymore.
"Well then, can I ask you something too?"
"What is it, Maria?"
"If your very first child is born a boy—what name will you give him?"
"That's already decided."
Harry's cheerful voice, completely free of doubt, echoed into the light. The end of the miracle made the world sprout anew.
""James Sirius Potter!""
Author's Note:
This really is the end. I’m sorry it took four years to get here…
And with this, the series has come to an end. As the title suggests, Kochou is a “dream” where it’s impossible to tell who exactly is doing the dreaming and who is merely witnessing it.
So, perhaps it happened, and perhaps it never did. Maybe they remember it, or perhaps it will leave absolutely no trace in their memories. That’s the kind of story Kochou is.
(Though, just as Dumbledore said, the older generation will have their memories of Harry and Maria completely erased.)
Author's Note
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