The summer holidays were ending too quickly for the children at Twelve Grimmauld Place. To Harry especially, the last two weeks felt more like two days.
The misery Harry felt when he woke up after running away only intensified as the start of term approached. The only positive he recalled was that Mrs. Weasley had apparently forgotten about disciplining him for running away. She had been really nice to him when he woke up actually, almost too nice.
Harry had woken with itchy and blotchy eyes, back to sucking his thumb for comfort. He was surprised to find her in the room. She spoke softly to him, asking if he needed anything. Over the days she was quick to comfort him if he even looked momentarily sad.
He actually did not mind her fussing over him. It was a distraction from his fear that his friends would soon be leaving for school and he would not. He thought it was really unfair and planned to tell Dumbledore so the next time he saw him.
There were meetings of The Order of The Phoenix in increasing number, but Harry never saw Dumbledore. He even took the chance at being seen by Snape late one night, when Mrs. Weasley thought him in bed with the others. He was looking down at the entry hall as the Order’s members filed out, from the above landing, laying on the floor to hide himself better. He peered through the bars under the banister where nobody could easily see him.
He saw some people he knew and many more he did not know. He almost did not notice Snape turn and look up where he was because he was so intently searching the group for Dumbledore. He quickly ducked his head, unsure whether he had been seen, or not. He heard Snape whisper something and then leave with the rest. By the time Harry looked up again, the hallway was empty except for Mrs. Weasley, who was closing the door.
Harry sighed and began to slide along the floor back to his room. He went to bed and pulled his covers snuggly around him, but could not sleep for many hours.
Sleepless nights were common for Harry during the two week period. He spent this time dwelling on thoughts and ideas of restoring himself. He spent some time during the day doing the same, but his friends worried about him, so he also spent time with them, hoping something might inspire him. When sleep did come, it was full of his fears and worries and he could not sleep for more than a few hours at a time.
Harry’s sleeplessness got to the point that on August twenty-third Mrs. Weasley offered him some dreamless-sleep potion, the same potion he took after Voldemort’s return. Harry refused to take it however, saying he did not like the side affects it gave him. “When I took it last time, I felt numb and emotionless the next day. I didn’t like it.”
Mrs. Weasley knew better. The potion had no side affects. Harry had felt that way because of his traumatic experiences the night before, but she did not force the potion on him. “Well, I’ll leave it here, in case you change your mind. Two spoonfuls should be enough.”
Despite becoming increasingly tired, was able to enjoy the time he spent with his friends. As the days passed, he became increasingly moody, depressed that he would be spending the coming year in Grimmauld Place.
It was not until August twenty-ninth that Harry received some good news, though it was not quite the news he wanted. His friends had been helping him brainstorm for the past several days, to no help. “I might as well just get used to being a kid again,” Harry shouted that afternoon, breaking the thoughtful silence. Days of thought, and sleepless nights had caused him to lose hope.
“Don’t worry Harry, we’ll think of something,” Ron said.
“And if we don’t,” Harry asked angrily. “I just get to sit in this old house all year, maybe longer?”
“Actually, Professor Dumbledore said he would cast many of the same protective charms and enchantments on the Burrow if you did not return to school,” Hermione replied.
“What? When did he say that? Why didn’t he do it sooner, so we didn’t have to stay here?” Harry’s shouts were echoing through the house now.
“He came yesterday afternoon. You were sleeping and mum said not to wake you because you haven’t been getting much sleep,” Ginny told him.
“But I wanted to talk to him,” Harry huffed.
“The Order’s having another meeting tonight. You could just go downstairs and find him.”
“Ron,” Hermione scolded. “Are you trying to get Harry in trouble.”
“Or scene by Snape,” Harry added. He nearly saw me a week ago, I think.”
“That meeting didn’t even start until midnight. What were you doing awake,” Hermione asked, sounding like a mother learning her child had done something wrong.”
“I don’t sleep good. Remember?“
“Don’t talk to me like that Harry,” Hermione snapped back. Harry stomped from the room. Hermione did not even try to stop him. She had grown tired of Harry’s moodiness, no longer as understanding as she once had been. It was Ginny who followed after him, trying to calm him down.
Harry was particularly aggravated and aggravating when August thirty-first finally came. He snapped at almost anything anyone said to him. By noon Mrs. Weasley had already threatened to wash his mouth out four times. He refused to stop shouting rudely at any of them.
Finally, as Harry got on everyone’s nerves, Mrs. Weasley dragged him to his room and put him in bed. “I understand how you feel, but that’s no excuse to snap at everyone. If you can’t behave, then you can stay in bed the rest of the day.” Harry crossed his arms and scowled as she left.
As far as Harry was concerned, his treatment this summer had been entirely unfair. But he decided he should not spend the last day he had with his friends in bed. He got up and went to find them again. After he forced himself to apologize, Harry spent the remainder of the day playing cards with his friends and Mrs. Weasley.
His seething anger remained however. By the time he went to bed, he had stopped blaming others as the reasons for his anger. He was no longer angry with Dumbledore even. Harry was angry at himself. He believed he had failed … yet again.
The morning of September first was, as usual, total chaos. Even before breakfast Ron, Ginny and Hermione were running around the house, in their pajamas, searching for misplaced books, clothes and anything else.
Harry had recently become resigned to the fact he would not be returning with them, but he would at least be able to say goodbye at the train station. Or so he thought. “What do you mean I can’t go,” he asked Mrs. Weasley angrily.
They were all sitting at the breakfast table, Harry now the only one still in his pajamas. “It is just not a good idea to take you Harry,” Mrs. Weasley answered. “What if somebody recognized you? And I’m more than a little concerned you might try to get away from me and get on the train.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I’d let you hold me the whole time! All I want is to say goodbye.”
“Harry, what if Malfoy saw you,” Hermione asked.
“I don’t care!”
“You can say goodbye here. You’re not going. Besides, Tonks and Remus are going to be here, and …”
“I don’t need a babysitter!”
“They’re not here to baby-sit you. They are just early for a meeting, and will give you somebody to talk to. When I get back, we’ll pack and go home, alright?”
“Fine.” Harry jumped up from his seat and headed for the stairs. “I’m not hungry.”
When it came time for everyone to leave, Harry was not around to say goodbye. “Harry,” Mrs. Weasley called up the staircase. “We’re leaving now. Didn’t you want to say ‘bye?” The was no response and no sound of footsteps on the creaking floors. Mrs. Weasley waited a few minutes. “Alright you three, time to go. We can’t wait and I think he’s not coming anyway.” They all said goodbye to Remus and Tonks and left.
Shortly after, Remus and Tonks found Harry on his bed, pouting. “There you are,” Tonks said. “So, did you stop wetting your pants, or do I need to be ready to change diapers?” Harry did not even glare at her; he felt nothing, though he did think about wetting himself so she would have to clean up the mess. This was only thought by a tiny part of his mind, and passed out of his thoughts before he could care.
“Tonks!”
“What? I told you he was wetting his pants, on purpose, last time I babysat, Remus.”
“We’re not here to baby-sit him! Harry? Harry, didn’t you want to say goodbye to your friends?” Harry shook his head. “Why not?” No answer. Remus sat on the bed, and even Tonks now looked concerned, rather than continue to taunt him. “You know, Sirius wouldn’t have blamed you.” Harry did not want to here this again.
“Do you remember when Sirius told you there were things worth dieing for?” Harry nodded, so slightly it was barely visible. “Well, he long ago decided you were worth dying for. He would just be glad that his efforts helped to save you. He felt your life was more important than his own.” Harry had had enough. He got off his bed and rushed from the room.
“Harry,” Tonks called, starting to follow.
“No, let him go,” Remus said, grabbing her wrist. “Let him think about what I said.” That was the last thing Harry heard either of them say.
“I’m not so sure he should be alone.”
“Trust me. Or did you forget that Professor Dumbledore told me what he wanted Harry to learn?”
“Of course not ...”
“Then with that nudge he should figure it out. Dumbledore, well we all thought he would figure it out sooner. He did not intend for Harry to not return to school, but I think he might have been just a little too angry when he cast the spell. That’s why Harry was acting the way he did the last time you saw him. And I don’t think you taunting him helped him any.”
“Lighten up Remus. I was only joking with him. I know he’s not acting like a child anymore.”
“You’re as clumsy with humor as you are carrying a box of glass.” The pair chuckled softly.
Harry, meanwhile, wandered aimlessly around the upper floors of Sirius’ childhood home. He knew by the end of the day, he would be at the Burrow and would likely stay there for six more years before returning to Hogwarts as a first year once again.
Still, other thoughts found their way into his head and he found he had ambled into the master bedroom. He looked around the room, curious about what had made him come in here now. This room had not yet been a help to his thinking. The only purpose it had ever served was as a good hiding place. Even so, he found himself snooping around.
It was here Mrs. Weasley found him, returning from Platform 9 ¾. He had strewn Sirius’ belongings around the room and was now looking through old photo albums. “Harry, I’m going to start packing our things and we should be ready to go in about an hour.”
“Okay.” Harry did not look up from the old photographs of his father, godfather and Remus, now the only link to the two, to Harry’s past. He was laying on his stomach, with other photo albums scattered around him on the bed.
“I don’t think you should be snooping through Sirius’ belongings. Why don’t you come …”
“He was my godfather,” Harry spat acidly, still not looking at her. He regretted his tone immediately, but when he turned to apologize, Mrs. Weasley was already gone. Yet, he did not follow her to apologize. Instead, Harry turned back to the photographs.
It was a great help that wizard photographs had moving subjects. Through each one, Harry gained an understanding of the people’s personalities through their actions. He could not help but become misty eyed as he progressed through the pages of each album.
It was clear James was the leader of the group. He was obviously a skilled athlete, a clever trickster and, perhaps, a bit of a ruffian or bully. Setting his loathing of Snape aside however, James Potter was a loyal friend, and when not pulling pranks, exemplified what it was to be a Gryffindor. He was brave, at times self-sacrificing and helpful to his friends. He was also just as stubborn as Harry when it came to morality.
As most of the photographs were from their childhood and early teens, Harry did not find many of his mother, except those with James. Lily was more similar to Harry than James. As it was, Harry may look like his father, but he took after his mother much more. That is not to say there were not similarities between James Potter and Lily Evans.
Lily, clearly was not a person to play jokes and pull pranks, on friend or enemy. She was highly intelligent, especially at Charms, unlike James who favored Transfiguration. She was fiercely devoted to her friends and brave enough to stand up against James. Lily was also extremely helpful, as Remus had once told Harry. It was also clear that Lily was as loving, caring and perhaps overprotective a mother as any child could hope for. Harry saw pictures of his childhood nursery and it was clear Lily made him as comfortable as possible, despite the terror in which they lived.
Though not actually in the pictures, Harry saw snippets of memory float in front of his misty eyes. Images of Lily, lovingly bathing him, tenderly feeding him a bottle and carefully changing him. Most importantly, she played with him and comforted him so expertly when he was scared and crying, through speaking softly and gently tickling him. He felt a great longing for her and that attention.
Remus was as calm and conservative in his youth as he was as Harry knew him. His loyalty to his friends was all that prevented him from telling on their misdeeds. It seemed to Harry that in those days, Remus feared his wolf form; he feared what he could do. But he was brave enough to face it each and every month, occasionally twice a month.
Then their was Sirius. As much a leader of the group as James was. He was the instigator for James’ pranks however. James had the ideas, but it was Sirius who found who to prank and how and when. Certainly brave and a true Gryffindor at heart, Sirius valued his friendship with James most. Sirius would have died to protect James and lily and that protection extended to their son. No one could have stopped Sirius from doing what he felt honor-bound to do. He certainly would not stay in a house he hated while others went to Harry’s aid.
Harry suddenly felt very tired and could not keep his eyes tear free any longer. He lowered his head on the photographs and shut his weary eyes. The last thoughts he could remember before falling asleep were of Sirius.
Sirius had been a good friend and his sacrifice had helped ensure Harry would someday be able to face Voldemort. His memory needed to be honored, for he was perhaps the bravest among The Order of the Phoenix. The time for mourning had past, and it was time to remember the good times, though Harry had few, with Sirius. Harry could no longer blame himself for his godfather’s death, because if he could have, Sirius would have died fifteen years ago to protect Harry and his parents.
And Harry finally realized it was not his fault. He could not be blamed for what Voldemort had caused. He would become strong enough and smart enough to avenge Sirius one day. But he would not let his anger or sadness consume him, which would dishonor Sirius. He would enjoy the time with his friends and the remainder of his childhood.
Harry’s world went dark and his mind blank. He entered a dreamless sleep, but wore a smile on his face. He was going to defeat Voldemort for his parents and for Sirius. “Sirius,” he mumbled softly.
(I almost put an excerpt from the next chapter, but my beta thought it innappropriate.)