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The Time of Destiny | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 503 Summary: Sequel to "The Refiner's Fire." Harry Potter returns to Privet Drive for the last time, prior to his Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Much to the Dursley's surprise, Remus is going to stay with him due to a head injury Harry received on the train. The Dursleys are not happy with this situation, as you can well-imagine. This fic covers both the summer before Harry's seventh year, and his entire last year at school. Canon-based with some OC. Ships, for those who care: H/G, R/H, R/T Hitcount: Story Total: 508913; Chapter Total: 15653 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author notes: Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my beta readers Blakevich, Starfox, Iris and Asad! You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPR efinersFire The entire D.A. — ground troops, Flying Squad and Healer Squad — was assembled on the Quidditch pitch early one Saturday afternoon in mid-March. It was a beautiful day, crisp and chilly but not really cold, the sky an aching blue that cried out to Harry to fly. But he wasn’t here to fly, he was here to train his fighters. “All right, you lot,” he called, raising his voice so everyone could hear him, “gather round.” When they were in place and quietened, he smiled at them and began the day’s instructions. “We’re here so that we can practice under more realistic battle conditions,” he began. “The Flying Squad has bombs that contain powdered sugar, so their hits will be marked. The Healer Squad will fly to those who are so marked and ‘tend’ these wounded. ‘Tending’ them in this case simply means you brush the sugar off of them so they can go back to fighting,” he said with a smile. “Those on the ground will get practice in watching out for the Flying Squad’s bombs, and shooting up at fliers in case the Death Eaters have fighters on brooms as well.” He glanced toward the entrance to the pitch. Adults were coming onto the pitch, led by Remus and Professor Dumbledore. The group included several staff members and quite a few people most of the students didn’t know. “We also have guests joining us today,” Harry continued. “Those of you who were in the Battle of Little Hangleton may remember some of these people, but for those who don’t — these are some of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. They had a spell on their robes during the battle that made red phoenixes show up when a wand was pointed their way. There wasn’t time to come up with a better way of marking who was on our side at the time, but those phoenixes also showed the enemy where people were in the dark. We decided it’s best if you meet them, so you’ll know who’s on our side.” He smiled at Tonks, who was wiggling her fingers at him with a cheeky grin on her face. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, Ted Tonks, Arthur and Molly Weasley (who were quickly hugged by Ron and Ginny), Fred and George Weasley with brooms in hand, many other old members and new ones such as the leaders of the Auror School who had met with Harry and Ron a couple of months ago, smiled and waved as they spread out facing the D.A. members. “Look at these faces and memorize them. There are a few who couldn’t be here today. They will have phoenixes on their robes if we wind up in battle before we can get them here to meet you. These are the good guys,” Harry said earnestly. “Don’t hex them!” The D.A. responded with nervous laughter. “Those big, serious-looking blokes?” he said, indicating a group standing behind O’Connell. “They’re not only Order members, but Aurors, as are Tonks Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt. They may have some pointers for us, so pay close attention if they suggest something to you. Remember to keep your spells small today so nobody gets hurt. And when you shoot at the Flying Squad, use Stinging Hexes only — we don’t want to shoot anyone down. Listen for my whistle. I’ll use it when we need to reorganize or do something different, and so on. If you get hurt and need help, send up red sparks. If you see red sparks, everyone stop what you’re doing until we can sort things out, all right?” Seeing nods of agreement all around, he gave them their assignments and the mock battle began. As Harry, Ron and Hermione soared above the fray, Ron said, “They’re doing pretty well, aren’t they?” “Yeah. It’s great the Order could come today,” Harry replied. “This is good practice for them.” He glanced down and saw Zacharias Smith fighting on despite being covered in powdered sugar from bombs thrown by the Flying Squad. “Oy, Smith! You’re wounded. Lie down and let the Healers take care of you!” “That’s not what you’d do!” Smith retorted. Harry laughed. “You’ve got me there! But for this exercise, you need to let them do their job. You’ve got Healers following you around trying to clean you up! Healers! If someone refuses treatment, move on to someone else!” “I’m going down and help the younger ones with their spells,” Harry told his two best friends a short time later. They nodded. Ron and Hermione went back to watching the progress of the battle, discussing strategies, with Hermione sending orders to the squad leaders as needed. Harry began a slow spiral to the ground as he watched the fighting below him, trying to decide who to help first. He set his Firebolt down, then moved from student to student, correcting a stance here, a wand movement there, always encouraging them, leaving each student with a smile on his or her face rather than the frustrated frown many had just before Harry got to them. Fred and George Weasley were kept busy re-supplying the Fighting Squad with sugar bombs. After helping all of the D.A. members who seemed to need it, Harry flew over to talk to them for a moment. “The sugar bombs were a great idea, guys!” Harry said with a grin. “Having a way to see where the bombs actually hit without anyone getting hurt — brilliant!” “We aim to please,” George said with a modest bow. “And we aim to SPLAT some people,” Fred said, bombing Zacharias Smith for no particular reason. “Are you two why he’s so covered in sugar?” Harry said, chuckling. “Yeah. Sorry, Harry, we just can’t help it,” Fred said. “He’s still such a git!” George said, lobbing another bomb at Smith, who hadn’t cottoned on to why he was being hit so many more times than other D.A. members. “We spelled some of these to follow him around and hit him when he least expects it,” Fred said confidentially. “Can you spell real bombs to hit only Death Eaters?” Harry said excitedly. “That would be something!” “Yes, it would, and no, we haven’t managed it yet,” George said sadly. “But we’re right in the middle of research!” Fred said, sending another bomb Smith’s way. “Cool. Try not to hurt him, OK?” Harry said, chuckling as he flew away from his friends. “Right you are!” Fred said. ”Cheers, Harry!” George added. They both grinned devilishly and then sped up behind Ron, chucking bombs at him. “Oy! You’re supposed to be bombing them, not me!” Ron protested as he was hit with a third bomb, this time in his ear. “You’re fair game too, little bro!” George chortled, tossing one more bomb Ron’s way, then going after Harry, who was on the ground again helping some younger students. Soon Harry’s black hair was totally white, but he was laughing along with the twins, and appeared to be enjoying licking his fingers after he wiped his face clean. Finally, Harry blew his whistle, stopping the action. Everyone looked at him expectantly as he hovered a couple of feet off the ground on his broom. “That was really good!” he said with a grin. “OK, those of us who have sugar on, get cleaned up. Flying Squad, great work! Go ahead and reload your bags. Five minute break, everyone.” When everyone was ready again, he said, “Now we’re going to practice the strategies you’ll use when Voldemort is involved. What do you do when you see he’s on the field?” In one voice, the D.A. roared, “CLEAR AWAY!” “That’s right,” Harry said with a grin. He turned to the Order members and teachers, all of whom looked a bit confused, and explained, his face suddenly serious. “When Voldemort is on the field, I want everyone to keep a good distance away from him. I don’t want anyone else hurt by stray spell fire, nor do I need to be distracted by trying to protect those who’ve wandered too close to our battle. So push the fighting away from us. I guarantee you the Death Eaters will cooperate with you on that.” He saw O’Connell and the other Aurors glancing at each other uncomfortably. “Questions?” Harry said, looking directly at O’Connell. O’Connell looked at his fellow Aurors and sighed. “Not right now, but I’d like to talk to you when you have a moment.” “Sure. Hang on while I get them going again,” Harry said. He had a feeling he knew what the Aurors were thinking. Harry was making everyone else stay away from Voldemort, even them. Why would he do such a thing with trained adult fighters working with him? Harry blew his whistle, starting the action, then flew over to O’Connell to speak with him. “Yes?” “You’re surrounded by trained Aurors, lad,” O’Connell said, obviously frustrated. “Why not let us help you fight him?” “Honestly? I don’t want to lose any of you. Professor Dumbledore and I have a strategy worked out between us. He’s going to help me with Voldemort since you lot will be here to help the D.A.” “What makes you think you’d lose any of us, Harry?” O’Connell frowned, his eyes concerned as he waited for the young man’s reply. “We talked about the prophecy before,” he reminded the older man, drawing him away from the sounds of battle. Ron was busy barking orders when passing them via Hermione’s Adferos didn’t satisfy his need for speed. Between his deep, booming voice, the twins’ raucous laughter and all the incantations being yelled, the noise level was tremendous. “The one about you and Voldemort?” “Yes.” “I remember.” “Then you know that I’m the only one who can kill him, right?” Harry said earnestly. “I don’t want any more good people to be injured or to die. It’s my destiny to deal with him. Not yours. Not Dumbledore’s. Not Remus’s. Mine. I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is. I’ve fought him enough now to understand how he fights. I can anticipate what he’s going to do sometimes, which is a tremendous help. Professor Dumbledore and I have been working together intensively this term, so we understand how each of us moves, how each of us thinks, and we make a good team. We’ll deal with Voldemort. You can help me best by capturing or killing as many Death Eaters as possible.” O’Connell looked deeply into the young wizard’s serious green eyes. In those eyes he saw determination, courage, selflessness, and just enough fear to give the young man before him a good sense of caution and respect for his opponent. He sighed. “If that’s what you want, Harry,” he said finally. “I’ll tell my team to follow your instructions and keep the Death Eaters away from you rather than trying to engage Voldemort in battle ourselves.” “Good. Thanks,” Harry said. “I wish it could be different. I’d love to just say ‘go for it!’ but I can’t.” “I know.” O’Connell laid a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’re behind you, Harry.” “Thanks.” “I wanted to tell you also — you’re a wonderful teacher. I watched you working with the students. You’re a natural.” Harry beamed. This was high praise indeed, coming from a man who was not only a teacher himself, but head of the Auror School, as well. “Thanks.” “It’s going to be interesting to see how your life develops, Harry. Auror, Quidditch player, teacher — you’d be wonderful at any or all of those,” the man said sincerely. Harry blushed, then said, “That’s if I have a future at all.” “You will, lad, you will,” the man said with more assurance than he felt. “By the way, I brought you something. Can you give me a few minutes after practice?” “Yes.” “Then I won’t keep you any longer now. Let’s get back to it, shall we?” O’Connell said with the eager smile of a seasoned warrior who truly enjoyed training sessions. They went back to the battle, each of them taking his place in the activities. After a while, Harry landed, laid his broom aside and moved between fighters to the centre of the fray. “All right, you lot, now we’re fighting as if Voldemort’s here!” he cried, shooting sparks as he pantomimed fighting with his enemy. The fighters obediently moved their own battles away from him, leaving Harry alone in the centre of a huge cleared area. Dumbledore joined him, positioning himself at an angle to Harry, shooting sparks in the same direction the boy was. After several minutes of this kind of action, Harry looked at his watch and then blew his whistle, halting the skirmishes going on in every section of the Quidditch pitch. All the warriors moved toward him, soon surrounding him. Some of them looked quite comical with powdered sugar plastered all over their heads and robes. They laughed and licked their fingers as they brushed themselves off. ”That was a great practice, you lot!” Harry said. “Flying Squad, good work! I think you nailed every one of us, from the look of things. I’m just glad these are sugar bombs rather than the real thing.” He grinned ruefully and raked his fingers through his hair, making zebra-like strips as the black showed once more through the powdered sugar he hadn’t yet bothered to brush off. The twins had bombed both him and Ron quite seriously once again. “Order members, professors and Aurors, thank you so much for coming! I think it was a great help to the D.A. to practice with you.” The D.A. members raised a cheer for the adults, who had not only rehearsed battle tactics with them, but had helped the ones who still had a bit of trouble with certain spells. “All right, D.A. members, line up and move across the field together. We need to clean up the debris. When we’re finished, put away any equipment you were using, and then you’re dismissed. Thanks again!” He grinned when he saw Order members and Aurors joining the line of students stretched across the pitch using Cleaning Spells to clear away the debris of dropped bombs and the mounds of powdered sugar. When they were done, he went to tell the Weasleys and Tonks goodbye. “Harry, dear, you were brilliant!” Molly said as she hugged him warmly. “And you’ve done such a good job of training the D.A. They were wonderful.” “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, returning her hug with affection. They had exchanged letters regularly since the holidays, letters that were increasingly honest, funny, heartfelt and warm, which finally healed the breech between them. They were both glad to be on good terms again. “Well done, lad,” Mr. Weasley said as he shook Harry’s hand. “Thanks,” Harry replied. “Thanks for the help. It’s great to see you all again, as well.” “And you,” Arthur replied. “Take care.” “Fred, George — well done!” Harry said as he shook their hands. “No hard feelings about making you such a target, then?” George asked with an impish grin. “Nah. At least it’s sugar. I expect we’ll all be on a sugar high for quite a while now,” Harry replied, grinning. “A well-deserved one, I might add,” Fred said, cuffing Harry gently on the shoulder. “See you.” “Yeah, see you,” Harry replied. He turned to Tonks as Ron, Hermione and Ginny continued talking to the Weasleys. “Come here, handsome,” Tonks said, opening her arms for him. “Give your old godmother a hug.” “My ‘old’ godmother?” Harry teased. “Do you see an old godmother around here somewhere? I’d be happy to hug her.” “You’re so cute,” she said, holding him close. “This was fun! Let’s do it again sometime.” “Yeah, it was fun. Thanks for coming,” he replied, kissing her on the cheek. “Ooooo, your godfather is going to be so jealous!” she teased, returning his kiss. “Ooooo, I’m jealous,” Remus said with a laugh as he came up behind them. “Unhand my wife, you young whelp.” “Sorry, she was just too tempting,” Harry said, grinning at his godfather. “Yes, she is,” Remus said, smiling down at his bride. “I’d better go. Mr. O’Connell wanted a word with me, and there’s still a bit of daylight left. If he doesn’t take too long, I might get some flying in before Hermione makes us get back to revising for N.E.W.T.s. Oh, do you want to fly with me?” he invited. “No, lad, but thanks,” Remus replied. “We have things to do at home.” “I understand,” Harry replied, his eyes twinkling. “Have fun, you two! Bye.” He waved at his departing friends, then turned to find O’Connell waiting for him. ”Sorry to be so long,” Harry apologized. “No problem, lad,” O’Connell said with a smile. “You were taking care of your troops, your equipment, your training ground and morale among your fighters. That’s what a good leader does.” Harry’s cheeks pinked up at the compliment. “Yeah, and we’d never hear the end of it from some people if we left the pitch a mess,” he chuckled. “You said you have something for me?” “Yes. I brought you pictures of your parents,” he said, putting a thick package in Harry’s hands. Harry gasped in surprise. “I thought you said a ‘few’ photos,” he said, grinning at the man. “This feels like a lot more than a few!” “I had a new camera when I started Auror School, so I took pictures all the time,” O’Connell said with an easy smile. “Your parents gave the best parties, always great fun, with good company. I took pictures at those, as well as during our breaks between classes and when we went out to practice field work. I hope you enjoy them.” “Are you sure you don’t want to keep at least some of these?” Harry said cautiously. “I wouldn’t want to take all of your pictures. . . .” “Those are copies I made for you. I still have the negatives, and I enjoy developing film. Those are all for you. I hope you enjoy them.” “Thank you!” Harry breathed, delighted beyond words. “Take care, Harry. See you,” the man said with a casual wave as he moved off to join his waiting friends. Harry stood there staring at the package, then sat down cross-legged on the grass and opened it, pulling out a thick sheaf of photographs. There were his parents, smiling and waving, sitting together on a park bench with other people scattered across the lawn around them. There they were in a large group of people listening to an older wizard. All of them had brooms in hand and excited looks on their faces. In another photo, they were indoors, and his mother had a baby — him — in her arms as she talked with Sirius, Remus, Peter Pettigrew and some other people seated or standing around the room. Every so often, she reached out and patted Pettigrew, who was seated nearest her, on the shoulder. James had his arm around Lily’s shoulders, his other hand reaching out and softly tickling the laughing baby’s cheek, a tender smile on his face. Every so often, baby Harry would rest his head on his mother’s shoulder, looking perfectly content. Harry reached out a gentle finger and touched his mother’s face, then his father’s. He wished beyond all imagining that he could share such a moment with them now. Shadows fell across the picture as Ginny, Ron and Hermione plopped down around him. “What’s that, mate?” Ron asked curiously as he and Ginny leaned over to look at what had Harry so spellbound. “Is that Sirius?” Hermione said, getting to her knees and looking at the picture upside down. “And Remus! And your parents!” Harry nodded wordlessly, still lost in the hollow feeling that had come over him when he saw the photo of his mother holding him. “And look at Harry,” Ginny said fondly. “Isn’t he a beautiful baby? Such rosy cheeks and so much hair! And look at that smile.” “Yeah,” Hermione agreed, admiring the precious baby in the photos. “Where’d you get these? May we see the others?” “O’Connell was in Auror School with my parents,” Harry murmured, trying to shake off the odd feelings he was experiencing. “He was a photographer — like Colin, I guess. He copied his photos for me.” He separated the stack of photos into fairly equal parts and handed one to each of his friends. They were soon engrossed in trying to determine who certain people were, and exclaiming over those they recognized. It took them a while to realize Harry was still sitting quietly looking at that one photo. “What is it, Harry?” Ginny murmured, moving next to him and rubbing his back gently. “What’s wrong?” “My mum,” he said sadly. “She’s being so kind to Pettigrew.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’ve known for years now that they were friends,” Ginny said quietly. “I know. It’s just — Remus and I are the only ones left from this photo, you know?” He touched his mother’s face again, then looked at Ginny. “You do look a bit like her,” he mused. She smiled tenderly at him. She knew he was going through emotional turmoil, yet he was trying so hard to hide it. She handed him her stack of photos. “Thanks for letting me look at them,” she said softly. “Do you want to go in now? Or what?” Harry took the photos she, Ron and Hermione were all handing back and re-wrapped them carefully. “I guess we should go in,” he said after a long moment’s silence. “We have a lot of revising to do.” He stood up, tucked the package under his arm, picked up his Firebolt and started toward the castle, so deeply lost in thought he didn’t even notice if his friends were with him or not. “This isn’t good,” Ron said quietly, watching Harry walking away with his head held low, his shoulders slumped. “There’s enough daylight left, I was sure he’d want to fly a bit.” “We do need to study, Ron,” Hermione chided him as they started after Harry. Ginny had already run ahead to walk with him. “That’s not the point,” Ron said, glancing down at her, then back at Harry. “He went from being happy to suddenly not talking, not even thinking about flying on a gorgeous afternoon. That’s not like him.” Hermione sighed. “You’re right. It’s awful that seeing those photos makes him so happy and him so sad at the same time.” “Yeah.” A couple of days later, Remus caught Harry as he was leaving the Great Hall after lunch. “Going up to work with Professor Dumbledore this afternoon?” he asked with a smile. “Yes, in a couple of hours. He had some school stuff to take care of after lunch,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem yourself lately,” Remus said, walking next to the boy. “What’s bothering you?” “Nothing. I’m fine,” Harry said off-handedly. “I’ve heard you say you were fine when you’d lost half of the blood from your body and your skin was in tatters. Don’t give me ‘fine,’” Remus chided him with a fond smile. “What’s wrong?” Harry sighed, then turned to face his godfather. “Mr. O’Connell gave me photos of my parents, a whole pile of them. They’re wonderful, but they make me sad. I think some of them were taken in my house. It looks familiar somehow, but the memories are so faint. Could you take me to my house in Godric’s Hollow sometime? I’d like to see it.” “I’ll take you if you want, but it’s a ruin, Harry,” Remus said gently. “It won’t look the way you remember it at all. There’s hardly a stone left upon a stone anymore.” Harry’s face twisted in pain. “It’s just that. . .I can almost see things, almost remember, and it’s just out of my reach. It’s driving me mad.” “Most people don’t remember anything from before their third birthday, Harry. You were only fifteen months old. . .well, you know,” he replied. “The fact that you can remember anything at all is remarkable. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” “I know,” Harry said in frustration, “but it . . . I can’t explain it. It bothers me a lot.” “Not being able to remember your house?” Remus said. Harry was silent for a long moment. “Not being able to remember my parents holding me, playing with me. . .I see it in those pictures, and I know I was completely happy then, my life was peaceful and sweet and normal. I want to remember that.” “It’s not healthy to dwell on the past, Harry.” Harry looked at him sharply. “I can’t seem to stop dwelling on it. Those memories being just out of reach. . . .” He shook his head in frustration. Remus studied the boy’s face for a long moment, then said, “I might be able to help you.” “How?” “I’m free this evening. Bring your Pensieve to my quarters after dinner and we’ll see what I can do, all right?” Harry’s face lit up. “You’ll show me your memories?” he said hopefully. “Yes. I think it might be helpful to you.” “Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “I’ll see you this evening, then.” “See you then.” “There’s that handsome boy!” Tonks said as she opened the door for Harry to enter Lupin’s quarters. Most of her hair was shoulder length today, with purple stripes against a black background. The top was pulled up in spikes, the rest absolutely straight. “Hi, Tonks!” Harry said with a grin as she pulled him into a hug. “How are you?” “I’m the cutest godmother ever, aren’t I?” she said saucily as she kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, you are,” he agreed. He set the Pensieve on the table and looked up at Remus expectantly. “I’ve spent the afternoon thinking about which memories would be most helpful or most enjoyable to you,” Remus began as he touched his wand to his temple and pulled a long, silvery thread out from between his greying hairs. He dropped that thread carefully into the Pensieve, watching it swirl as he pulled another memory from his head. “I think you’ll enjoy what I came up with. I hope so, anyway.” “Anything, anything at all would be wonderful,” Harry said eagerly. Talking with his father’s portrait in Gryffindor’s Chamber of Knowledge was wonderful but heartbreakingly frustrating, as well. The James he’d gotten to know was still an immature youth, not the man who became his father, and that James had no memories of Harry at all. That James saw Harry as a buddy, a brother, a pal. What Harry wanted was his father, not another best mate. Talking with James’s portrait made Harry even lonelier for his parents than he had been before. He refused to tell anyone this, though, because he didn’t want to be forbidden to talk to James anymore. It was a difficult situation in every direction. Remus pulled several more silvery threads from his head. “Right then,” he said as he dropped the last memory into the Pensieve and looked at his godson. “Are you ready?” “Yes,” Harry replied. “Take my elbow so we don’t get separated,” Remus suggested. “One, two, three.” They bent over the bowl and soon both felt as if they were somersaulting into the Pensieve, landing on their feet in a place that was all too familiar to Harry. “King’s Cross Station?” he said, looking around. “What are we doing here?” “I thought you’d like to see when I met your parents — well, your dad, at least,” Remus said with a smile. “There I am, over by that wall.” “Why are you standing in the corner alone? Where are your parents?” A shadow of old pain crossed Remus’s face. “They left me here to manage on my own.” “Why?” Remus looked at Harry quite seriously. “I honestly don’t know.” He studied his eleven-year-old self sadly and murmured, “I was terrified. Once I got my back to that wall, I wasn’t ever going to move. I had no idea what to do, where to go . . . it was awful.” “I remember that feeling,” Harry said sympathetically. “My aunt and uncle dropped me off at the station and laughed at me, saying there was no such thing as Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. If I hadn’t seen the Weasleys on their way to the platform, I wouldn’t have known how to get here at all.” Remus squeezed the boy’s shoulder, sharing Harry’s remembered pain. He glanced up and said, “Ah, look! There they are.” “Who?” Harry said, his eyes flitting over the mass of milling students. “James and Sirius.” Remus gazed at the approaching boys with a fond smile. Two small boys were struggling with their trunks, dragging them manfully along the platform toward the train. James noticed young Remus standing alone. “Oy! What are you waiting for?” he said with a friendly grin. “Nothing,” the child Remus said nervously. “I. . .I don’t know where to go.” “A Prefect told me to just get on the train and find an empty compartment,” James said. “C’mon, you can share with us. I’m James Potter.” He held out his hand for Remus to shake. “Sirius Black,” the other boy said, offering his hand to Remus as well. Both boys had black hair and easy smiles. James’s hair stood up in the back and tended to do whatever it wanted, which didn’t seem to bother James at all. Sirius’s hair was an elegant tumble of loose waves, which seemed to annoy him for some reason. He kept pushing his hair back out of his face. Harry recognized that gesture from his time in Snape’s memories. In the teenaged Sirius, it would be a casual and cool gesture and would have girls drooling. Sirius’s eyes were mischievous, his grin infectious, and his laugh already sounded like a bark. James seemed a bit more serious, but friendly, with smiling eyes and an easy-going manner. The young Remus shook both boys’ hands solemnly and finally smiled, then followed them toward the steps into the train. James turned back to wave at a Fifth Year Prefect. The adult Remus pointed to the boy James was waving to. “See that boy? That’s Alfred O’Connell, your Auror School friend.” “It is?” Harry breathed, studying the sturdy fifteen-year-old’s face and seeing the resemblance to the man he’d become. “Look back toward your dad, Harry, quickly,” Remus urged. Harry looked where he was pointing. “See her? There’s your mum.” A pretty little girl with long red hair was struggling with her trunk just behind James and his new friends. James set his trunk aside and dragged hers up the stairs, setting it inside the train passageway. “James Potter,” he said with a smile, holding out his hand politely. “Lily Evans,” she replied, blushing and shaking his hand briefly. “Thank you.” “No problem,” James said, bounding down the stairs and dragging his own trunk onto the train. Sirius was standing at the top of the stairs, his hands on his hips, his eyes laughing as James clambered back into the train, his trunk bouncing behind him. Lily had already gone down the passageway and was now out of sight. “So you’re the gentlemanly type, are you?” Sirius teased. “I’m more of a rogue myself.” “Are you? Why do you say that?” James asked curiously as he, Sirius and Remus disappeared down the train passageway. “That was your dad all over,” Remus said with a fond smile. “Good-hearted, generous, friendly. He didn’t turn into the prat you saw in Severus’s memories until a few years later.” Remus chuckled. “Fortunately, his prat days didn’t last long. He was a good lad, James. Sirius, too.” He sighed, then looked at Harry, whose face was shining with delight. “Did you like them?” “Yes! I’m glad he wasn’t always the prat Snape thinks he was,” Harry said as he and the adult Remus followed James, Sirius and the child Remus onto the train. “Look there, Harry,” Remus said, standing in the doorway to the train and pointing back toward the entrance to the platform where the majority of the parents were clustered. “Those are your grandparents, the Potters. And there are the Evanses. That gawky girl must be Petunia.” He turned and led Harry down the passageway. “Your dad, Sirius and I are in the compartment. . .let’s see. . .fourth door down, I think. Yes, there we are,” he said with a laugh as Sirius poked his head back out of the door, looked up and down the corridor and made faces at passing students. Harry and the adult Remus entered the compartment with the future Marauders. Harry smiled at his dad and his friends, then moved to look out of the window at his grandparents again. “Hmm, the Blacks have to be here somewhere,” Remus mused, glancing around. “Ah, there they are.” Harry dragged his eyes away from his Potter grandparents to glance at the Blacks. Mrs. Black looked very much like her portrait, forbidding and sour. She was busy snapping instructions to Sirius, who was now leaning out of the window, ignoring her and having quite a good time waving at other people. Harry looked back at his grandparents. Yes, that was Aunt Petunia, sour-looking and horse-faced even as a young girl. His mum looked like her mother, apparently. Mrs. Evans was a pretty redhead with almond-shaped green eyes like Lily’s. The Evanses stood back on the fringes of activity, apparently a bit nervous around so many wizards. “I got my eyes from my grandmother as well as my mum,” Harry realized with delight. “Yes, it looks that way, doesn’t it?” Remus said, enjoying Harry’s pleasure. “And my dad’s parents — his mum’s the one with black hair, but his dad has my knobbly knees, from the way his trousers are bumped up over them. Or rather, I have his.” Harry grinned, elated with his discoveries. “I look like him, too, but more like my dad.” He sighed. “I wish we could talk with them.” “This bit is nearly over, Harry. The train is leaving the station. I have several other memories for you to enjoy. Look all you want for now, because they’ll soon be out of sight.” As the train left the station, the images of his grandparents faded away. “Wow. That was brilliant, Remus!” Harry told his godfather, his eyes shining. “What’s next?” “You’ll see,” Remus said, taking Harry’s arm and lifting his wand. They were soon in another memory. “The Quidditch pitch!” Harry said, grinning. “Who’s playing?” “Gryffindor and Ravenclaw,” Remus replied with a smile as they climbed into the stands while watching the action above him. “I thought you’d like to see your dad fly.” “He’s playing Chaser! I thought he was a Seeker,” Harry said, confused. “I saw a trophy with his name on it, listing him as Seeker.” “He played Seeker when he was older,” Remus said. “The first year he was on the team, they needed another Chaser. He was good at it. I’ve just put a small portion of this game and one other in the Pensieve. You’ll see him as Seeker in the next game.” “Cool!” Harry said, grinning hugely as his dad scored a goal. “YES! Well done, Gryffindor!” Harry chanted along with the cheering crowd. Remus laughed in response. “Ready? Let’s go,” Remus said, and then they were at another Quidditch game, this time with James soaring high above the action. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin, Fifth Year,” Remus said. “That’s not. . .Snape?” Harry said, glimpsing a greasy-haired boy with a hooked nose on the Slytherin team. “Yes. He wasn’t very good, but he tried hard,” Remus said. “Watch your dad — he’ll do something interesting soon.” And sure enough, James suddenly began a spectacular dive, racing the Slytherin Seeker toward the ground, pulling up at just the right moment. The Slytherin Seeker ploughed into the ground as James zoomed off leaving a trail of laughter in his wake. “He faked him out!” Harry said, clapping madly. “Well done!” “James was a wily one when it came to Quidditch,” Remus said with a smile. “There he goes. He’s seen the Snitch.” The Slytherin Seeker was back on his broom and trying to catch up with James, who was flying neatly between Chasers and avoiding both Bludgers on his way to capturing the elusive golden ball. He lay flat on his broom and reached as far as he could, finally snagging the Snitch with the tips of his fingers. He pumped his Snitch-filled fist in the air in triumph, grinning down at the cheering crowd. “Brilliant!” Harry said, clapping until his hands were numb. “Well done, Gryffindor!” Remus watched Harry’s pleasure in his father’s performance, then glanced back at James, who was spiralling slowly to the ground, surrounded with celebrating team mates. “He was good, no doubt, but you’re by far the better flier.” “You think so?” Harry said, tearing his eyes from his dad to look at Remus. “Yes, I do. I watched every one of James’s games, and I’ve seen all of yours when I’ve been at Hogwarts. You’re simply a more skilful flyer, and your dives are amazing. Even if your dad had ridden a Firebolt, you’d still out-fly him.” “It would be fun to fly with him,” Harry said quietly, grinning as he watched his dad being lifted on the shoulders of the happy Gryffindors and carried off to the Common Room, where there was bound to be a rowdy party late into the night. “He would have loved that,” Remus said, watching the Gryffindors leaving the field. “Oh, there’s your mum,” he said, pointing. Lily was trailing behind the group, talking quietly to a despondent-looking Snape. “Why is she talking to him?” Harry said in disgust. “Did she fancy him or something?” “No, she never fancied him. Your mum was the sort of person who would take in every stray kitten she found. Severus was sort of a stray kitten in a way, I think. He had very few friends, and your mother felt sorry for him. She was a very kind person, your mother. She’s comforting him. He knows he flew badly. I think they became friends in Potions. She was partnered with him at times.” “Why would someone partner a Gryffindor with a Slytherin?” Harry said, looking affronted. “Different teachers have different methods,” Remus said with a shrug. “I think that professor was trying to get the Houses to get along better, so he tried to force some friendships. It didn’t work very well, but there were a few odd friendships that formed. Your mother and Severus were one of those.” “I imagine my dad didn’t think much of that,” Harry said wisely. Remus laughed. “No, he didn’t, but then he was at the peak of his ‘prat’ stage here. He fancied your mum, but she would barely speak to him.” “How did they get past that?” “Time and maturity,” Remus said with a smile. “Ready to go?” Harry nodded. In a moment, they were in another memory. It was fully dark, and in the light of the full moon, a stag, a huge black dog and a werewolf ran joyfully through the grounds. “Where’s Pettigrew?” Harry asked, tension in his voice. “He couldn’t keep up with us, obviously, so he waited by the Whomping Willow for us to finish running. Then he’d push on the knot so the tree would stop moving, and we’d spend the rest of the night in the Shrieking Shack.” Harry watched the animals moving so gracefully across the lush grass. The stag bounded along, his huge rack of antlers glittering softly in the moonlight. The black dog’s shaggy fur glistened with youth and good health. He ran with his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, his ears flapping in the wind. “You haven’t changed much, have you?” Harry said, noticing the werewolf of so many years ago looked nearly exactly as he did in the present. “Larger, and with more scars. That’s about it,” Remus said, his voice sounding a bit strained. “If it hurts you to watch this, why did you include it?” Harry asked curiously. “I wanted you to see your dad as a stag,” he said with a smile. “He was impressive, wasn’t he?” His voice grew softer as he continued. “They were the best friends anyone could want. To do that for me. . . .” He shook his head and looked at his godson. “And that goodness of heart continues to the next generation,” he said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder affectionately. “You can’t know what it means to me for you and Ron to be willing to run with me.” Harry smiled back at him. “I’m glad we can do it.” “Me, too.” Remus sighed again. “Ready to move on?” Harry nodded. They watched various scenes of James and Lily in classes, in the Common Room, in Hogsmeade, and finally beginning to be a couple. Then came a memory of a warm day in the late spring or early summer. James, Lily, Sirius, Remus and Peter were all lounging under the huge beech tree where Harry and his friends liked to sit. James and Lily were ignoring the others, totally engrossed in each other. “So they fancy each other now?” Harry chuckled as he watched his parents snogging quite seriously despite the presence of their friends. “Yes,” Remus said with a smile. He watched for a moment, laughing at some rude remark of Sirius’s, then turned to his godson. “I don’t want you to think they behaved this way in front of us all the time. They usually found someplace relatively private to snog. But this particular day, we were all just relaxing after exams and they couldn’t seem to help themselves. They were married not long after this.” As they broke their kiss, Lily leaned back in James’s arms and looked up at him, her face glowing with love. Her eyes crinkled in mischief, exactly as Harry’s did, and she leaned in and nipped James on the chin. “Got your dimple,” she said with a laugh. “And you may keep it or return it, as you wish, my lady,” James said with a warm smile. Then he nibbled on the end of her nose and went back to kissing her. Harry stood slack-jawed in shock. “What’s wrong?” Remus asked, noticing Harry’s surprise. “That’s exactly what Ginny and I do. They even said the same words!” Harry said, turning to his godfather. “I didn’t know they did that!” “They did that all the time, Harry, even after they married and had you,” Remus assured him. “They must have done it in front of you many times for you to remember it.” “I thought we made it up,” Harry said, bemused. “Ginny kissed my chin one time and I asked her if she got my dimple, and it went on from there.” Remus just smiled, delighted that this memory had such significance to Harry. He’d seen Harry and Ginny playing the dimple game and was poignantly reminded of James and Lily. He’d hoped Harry would enjoy this scene. Several memories later, they came to James and Lily’s wedding. “I put the whole wedding in the Pensieve, but we don’t have to stay for all of it if you don’t want to,” Remus said. “I wasn’t certain how much of it you’d want to see.” “All of it,” Harry said eagerly. “Let’s sit down, then,” Remus said, leading Harry to a seat on a bench near the front of the small chapel. The younger Remus, Sirius and Peter Pettigrew were all busy escorting people to their seats. “Pettigrew,” Harry grumbled in disgust. “He was a close friend — or so we thought,” Remus said with a sad shrug Harry sighed, willing himself to accept this fact since there was nothing he could do to change it. “Where are we?” “The church in Godric’s Hollow. That’s where your father’s family was from, for many generations.” “Since Godric Gryffindor?” Harry asked, his eyes twinkling. “You know about that?” “Professor Dumbledore told me only a true Gryffindor could pull Godric’s sword from the Sorting Hat. He told me recently that I’m the Heir of Gryffindor.” “I knew you were. James was, so you would have to be. What do you think?” “Of being his heir? I think it explains a lot of things,” Harry said seriously. He glanced up as Sirius escorted his grandmother Evans to her seat a few rows ahead of him. He saw Aunt Petunia seated there, as well. “Like what?” Harry studied his grandmother Evans and his Potter grandparents across the aisle from her as he answered. “Like why the Heir of Slytherin would choose me as his enemy. Like why the Malfoys and I have always been natural enemies. Things like that.” Remus nodded. “You’re right, it does explain those things. Ah, the service is starting,” he said, nodding toward a small door in the front of the church. The door opened and a clergyman came out, followed by James, Sirius, Remus and Pettigrew. Once they were lined up, Remus turned toward the back of the church as the music swelled. Lily Evans came in on her father’s arm, wearing dress robes of palest ivory embroidered with golden griffons. She was followed by three girls in matching dress robes in a shimmering gold fabric. “Why are the women coming in reverse order from your wedding?” Harry asked curiously. “Tonks and I had a wizard wedding. James and Lily combined wizard and Muggle traditions to keep both families comfortable,” Remus explained. “This is the way it’s done in Muggle weddings in England.” “There are more Muggles here than just my mum’s parents and Aunt Petunia,” Harry said as he looked around. “Won’t the Muggles wonder about the robes and so on?” He smiled at his mother as she passed by, then turned to the front to watch the proceedings. “This is a wizard church,” Remus replied. “Godric’s Hollow is actually a Muggle town, but many wizards live here as well. It’s such a small community they live quite close together, Muggles and wizards, and this is one of the few churches in the area, so it welcomes Muggles as well as wizards. It’s impossible to keep the Muggles from knowing about the wizards in their midst, but it’s not a problem here. They get along quite well, actually. I wish that was true everywhere, but Godric’s Hollow is a very unusual community, or was back then. I haven’t returned since. . . .” He left his sentence hanging, not wanting to spoil this happy time for Harry with thoughts of James and Lily’s unfortunate future. Harry looked sharply at him, then nodded in understanding. He turned toward the front, drinking in the sight of his parents glowing faces as they joined their hands, wands and lives in marriage. After the wedding, Remus took Harry to various memories of gatherings in his parents’ home. ”This is your six-month birthday party, Harry,” Remus said with a fond smile as he watched Lily carrying baby Harry around to greet their guests. The Evanses were there, but the Potter grandparents weren’t. “Where are my dad’s parents?” Harry asked as he looked around the room. “They died not long before this,” Remus said quietly. “Both of them? Together? What happened?” Harry said, a frown creasing his forehead. Remus sighed. “I hate to spoil the good time you’re having here,” he said finally. “Voldemort?” “No, Death Eaters. They were targeting Gryffindor’s descendents.” His voice trailed off uneasily, with something obviously left unsaid. “To find . . .me?” Harry said in a small voice. “In part,” Remus admitted, looking at Harry with sad eyes. “The rest of it was that they knew their worst enemies would be from the Gryffindor bloodline.” “And how many are left in his bloodline now?” Harry asked carefully. “Very few, and those are distant relations, not strong in the Gryffindor blood. I’m sorry,” Remus said, clasping the boy’s shoulder warmly. Harry swallowed hard, looking at the happy people enjoying the party around them. “And how many of these people are dead now?” Remus caught Harry’s eyes and gazed deeply into them, seeing misery replacing the pleasure that had been there moments earlier. “Do you really want to know?” “Yes,” Harry said firmly. “All right, then.” Remus studied the group gathered in the Potters’ living room. The Evans grandparents were there, as were Remus, Sirius and Pettigrew. Sirius had a young woman with him who apparently doted on him, but Sirius was more interested in playing with baby Harry than paying attention to his young lady. O’Connell was there, as were a couple of other people Harry didn’t recognize. “Your Evans grandparents were killed in a car crash,” Remus said, noticing Harry’s nod of acknowledgement. “Your aunt told you at the Weasleys’ party, that’s right. OK. Um, of those at the party, I would say that the couple by the kitchen door, O’Connell, you and I and that young lady with Sirius are the only ones left now.” “You’re kidding,” Harry said, aghast. Remus’s eyes were sorrowful. “No, I wish I were. That young lady was in St. Mungo’s the last I heard. She was an Auror and was tortured into insanity. The others — well, you know what happened to Sirius and Pettigrew. The others died at the hands of the Death Eaters. Those were bad times, Harry, so many people dying for no good reason.” “Like now,” Harry said bitterly. “Yes, like now,” Remus agreed. “Can I see my room?” Harry said, trying to shake off his dark mood. “Of course! It’s just through there,” Remus said, glad to change the subject. “Good timing, Harry. I’m going in your room to get something for your mother. We can just follow me,” he said with a grin. He walked Harry past an open doorway — “that’s the kitchen — see your high chair?” — and entered a small room painted a soft blue with white trim, white puffy clouds painted along the walls just under the ceiling, with some Quidditch players painted on the walls in various places, all of them in Gryffindor colours. “Your mother was artistic,” Remus said, noticing Harry’s amazement at the painting. “Your father insisted on the Quidditch players — he was so sure you’d be a boy,” Remus said with a laugh. “They used to pretend to argue about it — they always ended up laughing and saying maybe it would be twins. Your mum wanted a boy as much as your dad did, but she would take the girl’s side just to annoy your dad.” He chuckled at the memory, making Harry smile a bit. “What’s that?” Harry said, moving over to the crib and pointing to a small flying object circling just inches above the crib mattress. “It looks like a Snitch!” “It’s a toy Snitch for babies,” Remus said. “They’re made of soft material so the baby won’t be hurt if it hits them, and it’s too large for them to put in their mouths, so it’s safe. It’s spelled to fly just a short distance above the crib or floor so the baby has a chance to catch it. James bought that as soon as he found out your mum was pregnant. He was so certain you’d be a boy and would love Quidditch.” Harry laughed in delight. “No wonder I told Oliver Wood I liked the Snitch best when he showed me the Quidditch balls!” “Do you remember him?” Remus said, pointing to a stuffed toy bunny. It was brown and sat upright, with long floppy ears lying limply on its head. “No, I don’t think so,” Harry said, frowning at the toy. “Watch,” Remus said as his younger self finally noticed where the bunny was and grabbed it, passing them as he went back to the living room. “Are you finished in here? We can’t stay long, since I’ve left,” Remus said. “I remember that tree!” Harry said, pointing to a small tree bearing pink flowers just outside the window. “You do?” “I thought it was a painting I was remembering,” he breathed as he moved to the window and looked at the tree more closely. “I remember. . .yes, there! Blue tits!” “Your mother hung those birdboxes to attract them,” Remus said, smiling as the pretty little birds twittered about in the beautiful tree. He glanced behind him. “We need to change rooms, Harry. Come on.” Harry followed him back into the living room and saw baby Harry lying on his back on the floor hugging the bunny to him. The baby had the middle two fingers of his right hand in his mouth, the index finger of the same hand holding the bunny’s ear against his face. “You must be getting tired,” Remus said fondly. “You only sucked your fingers when you were teething or getting sleepy.” “Harry, love, you are a tired little boy, aren’t you?” Lily said, scooping him up in her arms. “Come on, you and Mister Bunny need a nap.” She hummed a lullaby as she carried him into his room. “Bear Bunny,” Harry corrected, then looked puzzled. “Why did I say that?” Remus laughed. “You do remember! That’s what you called him when you learned to talk a bit more. You called him ‘Bear’ — nobody knew why.” Harry noticed a table and chair in the corner. “Is that where my dad worked?” “Yes,” Remus said. “That’s the table I remember, then — and there’s the cat!” he said, seeing a black cat lying curled up on a pillow pushed back in the corner under the table. “I really remembered it, then,” he said, referring to a memory that he’d had the previous term of himself as a baby playing next to the cat under the table near his dad’s feet. “Yes, you did,” Remus said with a smile. When Lily put Harry to bed, Remus led Harry away to another gathering in the Potter home. “This is your first birthday party. Your parents actually had a party every month for your birthday until you were a year old,” he said, chuckling at the memory. “They enjoyed you so much, Harry.” There were far fewer people at this party. Lily’s parents were now dead, as were several of the others who had been guests at the previous party. The tragedy of so many people dying so young, so frequently, bore down on Harry. He sighed heavily, noting the faces of those at the party were much less cheerful. There was a darkness hovering over everyone’s mood, although they did their best to act light-hearted and have fun together. Harry listened as they spoke of friends who had died, others who were hospitalized for one reason or another, the increasing number of Death Eater raids in the surrounding countryside. At one point, Lily stood in the doorway with little Harry on her hip. James joined her, putting his arm around her and reaching out with his other hand to tickle his son’s cheek, making the baby laugh. O’Connell was taking pictures of this scene. These were the pictures that had disturbed Harry so, and being there now was even more bothersome to him. They have only a few months left to live, Harry thought miserably. That bastard Mum’s being so kind to is going to betray them. Sirius is going to Azkaban for twelve years for a crime he didn’t commit. They only have three months left. THREE MONTHS! He swallowed hard and forced himself to look at the people in the room. The couple who’d been talking by the doorway in the previous memory weren’t there. Of the others in the room . . . . “Where’s that couple? The ones who were by the door in the other memory?” Harry said suddenly. He saw Remus’s face tighten. Harry gulped as he reached a conclusion. “You, O’Connell and I are the only ones still alive, aren’t we?” Remus studied the group a long moment before nodding. “Yes. That couple — Ken and Marcia Brown — they died in a Death Eater raid a few weeks before this party. I’d forgotten about that until just now. I didn’t know them very well.” He looked at his godson and saw the pain on the young man’s face. “It’s time to go, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d want to see your birthday, and the setting for the pictures O’Connell gave you.” “I did. No, I don’t want to go yet,” Harry said, gazing intently at his parents’ faces. The three of them made such a picture. James and Lily gazed at each other with their love plain on their faces, which only increased when they looked at their baby. Tears streamed unheeded down the adult Harry’s face as he watched the scene. He felt a warm arm come around his shoulders. “There, there, Harry,” Remus said, squeezing his godson’s shoulders gently. “They were so happy, so proud of you. You have nothing to regret here.” “Yes, I do,” Harry said, stifling a sob with difficulty. “They died because of me.” “No, Harry, that’s not right,” Remus said in concern. “Yes, it is! He came after me. That’s why they died. Look how happy they were! How happy I was! I’ve never felt that peaceful, that content. . .that happy. . .since then.” Harry was trembling now as anguish washed over him. “I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have included this one,” Remus said, greatly distressed. “No, I wanted to see it. I want to see us together. I want to remember!” Harry cried in despair. He stood gazing raptly at them for several long moments. “I wish . . . I’d give anything to feel that way again, to hug them again. . . .” “I know, lad. I’m so sorry,” Remus said quietly, his heart aching for the boy. “Let’s go.” Harry finally looked at his godfather. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went off like that.” “It’s understandable. This is all a bit much for you to take in, I imagine.” Harry nodded. “Are there any memories you want to revisit before we leave?” “No,” the boy said in a low, sad voice, his eyes still locked on the loving scene his parents were presenting. “Come on, then. It’s late. We need to go,” Remus said. He took Harry’s elbow and counted, “One, two, three,” and they were soon standing in the middle of Remus’s quarters, where Tonks sat on the couch reading the newspaper. “Did you boys have fun?” she said brightly. “Sometimes,” Remus said uneasily, watching Harry’s face. “It was. . .erm. . .thank you, Remus,” Harry said uncomfortably. “Let’s have some tea. Would you like to talk about anything you saw?” Remus said. Harry had an odd expression on his face, something taut and constrained, and he was holding his body stiffly. “Huh? Oh. No. No, thank you,” the young man said, acting as if he’d just been awakened from a dream. “It’s late. I should go.” “You’re welcome to stay a while, Harry,” Tonks said kindly, noting Harry’s reddened eyes, strained expression, and the tracks of tears on his cheeks, as well as the concern on her husband’s face. “Why don’t you tell me all about what you saw?” “Erm. . .no. Not right now,” Harry said awkwardly. “You can keep the Pensieve for a while, so Remus can show you himself.” “That’s generous of you, Harry,” Remus said. He was very concerned about Harry, but didn’t know what to do to help him. “Thank you.” “No problem. Erm, I’d better go. You probably need to snog your wife or something,” Harry said, trying to grin. Remus and Tonks laughed, if a bit uneasily. “All right then. Good night,” Remus said. “I enjoyed spending time with you this evening.” “Don’t be a stranger!” Tonks said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Take care of yourself, all right?” “Yeah. Nice to see you, Tonks. Thanks again, Remus.” With that, Harry left their quarters and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. He walked with his head hanging down, his hands shoved in the pockets of his robes, lost in thought. The longer he thought, the more miserable he became. When he entered the Common Room, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all greeted him. “How was it?” Hermione asked eagerly. “Did you enjoy yourself?” “It was . . . amazing,” Harry said sincerely, but his body language didn’t match his words. “What’s wrong?” Ginny said, her forehead creased with worry. “Nothing.” “Not nothing. What’s wrong?” she insisted. Harry chewed his lip, trying to decide what to say. “I. . .erm. . .it’s just a lot to take in, you know?” “I can imagine,” Ron said quietly. Harry looked around at his best friends and his girlfriend, then dropped into a chair. He sighed, then told them what he knew they wanted to hear. “I saw my grandparents on both sides, I saw Sirius’s parents, I saw my parents, Sirius and Remus when they got on the Hogwarts Express the first time, a lot of their school days, my dad playing Quidditch — he was really good. I saw their wedding and some parties they had, two of my birthday parties. . . .” “Two?” Hermione said in surprise. “But. . . .” She stopped herself before saying anything else. “They had a party for my birthday every month until I was a year old,” Harry explained. “I saw my six-month birthday party and my year birthday party. I had a toy Snitch,” he said, his voice suddenly soft and sad. “Cool!” Ron said encouragingly. “Yeah. Remus told me my dad was certain I’d be a boy. My room had Gryffindor Quidditch players painted on the walls. My mum tried to tell him I might be a girl, but she wanted a boy too, Remus said. My dad bought that toy Snitch as soon as my mum told him she was pregnant.” His voice broke as he finished speaking. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a while.” He got up and walked toward the boys’ staircase. “Alone?” Ginny said nervously. “Are you sure? I’d be happy to just sit with you, Harry.” He turned back, his eyes miserable and sad. “I know. But I have to deal with this stuff myself. I just need some time.” He turned and trudged slowly up the stairs, leaving his three friends gazing unhappily at his retreating back. “It sounds as if he had fun memories to look at,” Ron said in confusion. “Why is he upset?” “Because his parents were so happy together and died so young,” Ginny said wisely. “He blames himself as much as Voldemort.” “That’s stupid!” Ron said vehemently. “Harry didn’t do anything wrong!” “You and I know that, but he doesn’t. The fact that he exists was reason enough for Voldemort to kill his parents, so he blames himself.” She looked sadly at the boys’ staircase. “I’m worried about him.” “I’ll check on him in a little while,” Ron offered. “Thanks,” she said quietly. Hermione sighed. “I thought seeing those things might be helpful to him.” “Remus thought so too, or he wouldn’t have done it,” Ginny said. “You never know when someone’s going to take something the wrong way,” Ron said sagely. The girls nodded. Up in his room, Harry pulled his curtains around his bed, then got out the packet of pictures from O’Connell and spread them out on his bed. He picked them up, one after the other, staring at the images of his parents waving gaily at the photographer; of them kissing playfully, then laughing at being caught by the camera; of them holding their beloved baby, kissing his fat little cheeks, nibbling tenderly on his neck; of James tossing baby Harry in the air, making the baby’s body shake with silent giggles. The more Harry looked, the sadder he became. He felt a great bubble of anguish building inside him and didn’t know how to deal with it. Merlin flew down from his post on top of the curtain rail and settled in, nestling against Harry’s side. “I don’t know what to do, Merlin,” Harry said despondently. “I can’t seem to get past these feelings. I should enjoy these pictures, but they make me feel awful. What can I do? Help me!” Harry took off his glasses and dropped his face into his hands, rocking in pain. “I can’t take anymore, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” he murmured miserably, rocking himself in his anguish. “I just can’t take it, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” Merlin crooned comfortingly to him. Finally, Harry stopped rocking, sat up and pulled Merlin into his lap, cradling the beautiful bird in his crossed legs. Merlin continued to croon, helping Harry the only way he could. Ron came upstairs and said, “Harry? You OK?” Dean and Neville were both in the library studying, so Harry had the room to himself. “I’m fine,” Harry snapped from behind his curtains. “You don’t need to bite my head off, mate. We were just worried about you, that’s all,” Ron said. “Are you coming down to study?” “No, I don’t think so. I’m just going to bed,” Harry said quietly. “Sorry I bit your head off.” “All right. See you later, then,” Ron said, looking at the closed curtains uneasily as he left the room. Hours later, Ron was awakened from sleep by some small sound. He poked his head through the opening in his curtains, trying to find what it was that had awakened him. Neville and Dean were both snoring softly. Harry’s bed curtains were opened a bit. Ron sat up and looked around, wondering where Harry was, and then saw him sitting on the sill of the opened window, Merlin lying quietly in his lap. Ron got up and crossed to the window. “Hey, mate. Feeling OK?” “Yeah,” Harry said unconvincingly. “You haven’t sat here brooding like this since we were little,” Ron commented, leaning against the wall. “You used to do that a lot, with Hedwig sitting with you.” “Yeah.” “What were you thinking about those times?” Ron asked, trying to get Harry to relax at least a little. Harry sighed. “I was wondering who I was and where I belonged and how I got here, why my life had been the way it was. That kind of stuff,” he said, a bit impatiently. “And what are you doing here now? Those stones have to be cold on your bum,” Ron said with a gently teasing smile. “They are,” Harry said, glancing up and smiling at Ron wanly. “Then why. . .?” “Nosy git, aren’t you?” Ron was taken aback. Harry’s tone hadn’t been friendly or playful at all. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just worried about you. So are the girls.” “Sorry.” “It’s OK,” Ron assured him. Harry was silent for several minutes. Ron waited patiently, hoping to find some way to help his friend. Finally, Harry said, “I feel . . . brittle.” “What do you mean?” “Something’s going to break inside me, and soon. I don’t know what to do.” “Talk to Dumbledore,” Ron suggested, truly worried now. “No, he can’t help. Nobody can help. It’s my problem,” Harry said miserably. “No, mate, it’s our problem. You tell me what’s bothering you and we’ll work out a way to fix it, all right? That’s what mates do,” Ron said with more confidence than he felt. Harry looked at Ron, his eyes sad and dark. “No, it’s my problem. You can’t help. Thanks anyway.” “What is it, Harry? Is it scar pain? V-voldemort? What’s wrong?” Ron asked anxiously. “You can’t help.” Harry got to his feet, setting Merlin on the windowsill. He gazed at the bird and said, “I think you’re right. I don’t know what else to do.” “What’s he want you to do?” Ron said, truly worried. “I’m going away,” Harry said shortly, sliding his wand into his pocket and putting on his glasses. “I’ll go with you. Where are we going?” Ron said loyally. “You can’t follow me, Ron. You can’t go there. Tell Ginny I love her. Tell her I’ll come back for her,” Harry said, reaching out and gripping his best friend’s shoulders tightly. “Promise me you’ll tell her that.” “Why don’t you talk to Remus?” Ron said, frantic now. “Or at least wait until morning. Where are you going? Why can’t I go?” “I can’t tell you. Merlin will be with me. I have to go or I’ll break, Ron. Please understand.” “Break how? What’s wrong, Harry? Tell me!” “Tell Ginny I’ll come back for her,” Harry said resolutely, then changed into a phoenix. An instant later, he and Merlin flashed out of sight. Author’s afterword: I know James Potter was a Chaser in the books and a Seeker in the movie. I was trying to “fix” this discrepancy by having him play both positions during his Quidditch career at Hogwarts. |
| Reviews 503 |
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