Into The Forest

It was cold. This would not have been unusual had it not been the middle of a heatwave in June. Although it was the middle of the night, the temperature was still high outside. This wasn't too much of a problem, however, since he attended a magical school and could perform a cooling charm. Not that he needed it - he was cold. It wasn't the air around him that was causing him to shiver, it was himself, he deduced. His insides were freezing. He felt as though he had taken a dip in the great lake during the middle of winter (which he had done once before during February of last year), and resulting in his internal organs being frozen solid in a block of ice.

His eyes were aching and wet. His left eye did not want to remain open; he had rubbed it until he could no longer feel his eyeball inside the socket. And he was tired; exhausted, even. However much he wanted to sleep, he knew that it was going to be an impossible task despite the trauma and heartache he had experienced that night. There was not a single chance at all that his brain was going to shut off long enough to sleep. There was also a part of him that did not want to. If he allowed himself to rest; to relax his body and mind enough to slumber, it would mean waking up to a brand new, entirely fresh day. The events of this day would then forever remain in the past. It would mean he would have to move on. Could he handle that? Right there and then was all he had; he wanted it to remain in his clutches for as long as possible.

All over his entire body ached; he could feel it deep inside his bones, as though one by one they had been picked out, rubbed until they were raw; the first layer having been sanded off; then placed back inside of his body. Moving hurt, as did breathing. There was not much he could do about this; he needed to breathe for survival, yet every breath he took was a betrayal. Every breath inhaled and exhaled; every blink of his eyes; every twitch of his fingers; every beat of his heart served as the painful reminder that he was still alive. How many people had to die for him? Despite what some people said about him, he did not have a death wish - no one truly wants to die, and he was no exception to that either, particularly not when he had been marked for death before his birth. What was the point of being the Boy Who Lived if everyone around him was dropping dead because he was still alive?

The sky was clear; and if he had the patience and the time, he could count all of the stars visible. He would have done, if no time would pass and if he could have remained in this bubble he was so desperately craving. The Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his late father was lying at his feet. He knew that eventually the sky would be lightening, from black to grey to hues of brilliant oranges and yellows and reds all combined together to form this picturesque scenery as the sun rose for the day. If he remained where he was, he would still see the night turn in to another day. It was not all that clear to him how he got where he currently was sat on the school grounds; he remembered walking in a confused daze, not wanting to go back to the dormitory, and not wanting to stop. He needed to do something; to feel the ground beneath his feet.

And he was hurting. He was not entirely certain where the pain was coming from; it seemed to radiate all over his body, spreading further and further, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. All he could feel was pain. There was just so much pain. He wanted to scream out, but he wasn't sure his lungs would be able to take the strain of it. His breath was now coming in short, heavy gasps that left him needing and wanting more. The pain left him wanting to crumble in to a hundred pieces. There was a part of him which did not think it could get any worse, yet it did.

Perhaps he could run and hide and forget about everything. He was close to the forest edge, behind it a small village. Could he turn his back on his school, his friends, his responsibilities, and just run away. Would it be better for them all? Surely there was an end to the edge of the forest. There had to be something behind it, something to explore. Maybe he could always make his way in the Muggle world. He had the necessary knowledge and experience which would allow him to navigate around successfully.

Harry Potter sat back until he was lying fully on his back, then closed his eyes. He sighed heavily. Sometimes being the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. It seemed that it was a phrase synonymous with death and torture and pain. This was for all the people who wished to be the amazing Harry Potter. Sure the fame was something they desired, but being an orphan with no family who loved and cared for them; being hunted down by a vile creature hellbent on moving the Earth just so that he can kill him, as well as having access to his mind and all of his emotions, both the good and the bad; and, not to mention, watching everyone who did ever care about him die right in front of his very eyes, usually with it being his own fault... well, those were the parts of being the Boy Who Lived that they surely would not want in exchange for a slight bit of fame. If someone still wanted the position while knowing that information, then Harry would gladly exchange. Perhaps then he wouldn't watch so many people get killed.

Harry just laid there, with his eyes still closed, feeling the world spin. Out there, somewhere, people were joking and laughing; raising a glass to another; sharing a light peck on the cheek or even a passionate embrace. Out there, people were happy. The idea of happiness felt foreign.

'It's a peaceful night, isn't it?' Harry's eyes snapped open at the sound of a familiar voice. The voice sounded as exhausted as he felt; it had been a long night for the pair of them, and if there was anyone else on the planet feeling close to how he was, it would be Remus Lupin. He smiled weakly when he noticed Harry staring at him. The smile did not reach his eyes. Of course it wouldn't. 'It's quiet out here. I like it.'

Harry said nothing. The words he wanted to speak would not roll off his tongue. Instead, he just watched as Remus moved over to where Harry was sitting and proceeded to sit down next to him.

'I hope you don't mind my being here. I went to Gryffindor tower to check on you but you weren't there. Then I saw the map on your bed. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but obviously that's not really something you're going to be feeling right now. I know I'm not.'

There was more silence. Harry's mouth would not cooperate with him. Remus seemed to understand, however.

'I remember once, when we were about - it must have been during our fifth year at Hogwarts - but your dad and Sirius had concocted a plan against Severus and some of his less than pleasant Slytherin friends.' There was a ghost of a smile on Remus' face as he spoke; his eyes distant, lost in the memory, of which Sirius, and Harry's father, would now always remain. 'I'm still not entirely certain how they managed to do what they did - both Peter and I were kept in the dark for this one. I only found out about it during dinner that evening. I had just sat down when an extremely loud bang from outside the hall doors startled us all. Naturally we all got up to have a look, and there they were on the floor, as were Severus and his friends. This is the best bit - somehow, your dad and Sirius had managed to get themselves stuck, and I actually mean physically stuck together with Severus and his friend, Rosier.'

'How did they manage that?' Harry asked, finally breaking his silence. His voice was hoarse; he had screamed himself only a few hours before. 'And why did they do that?'

Remus chuckled. The sound was only half-hearted. 'You really need to ask why?'

'Fair point,' Harry replied. The corners of his mouth curved up in to a faint smile, fading just as quickly as it had come about once he was aware of it. How could he allow himself to feel happy at a time like this? It was a betrayal to Sirius, after what he had done.

'Actually that was never their intention. I'm not a hundred percent sure what their intention was as they never wanted to divulge it after their plan had gone south. That week had to have been one of the best times of my life. Dumbledore's too. I can tell he knew how to reverse it - what doesn't Dumbledore know how to do magically? However he refused. I think to both to teach them a lesson, as well as a sheer amount of enjoyment for the rest of us.'

Curiosity got the better of Harry. 'What did they do for that week?'

'What they normally did. Attended lessons, did homework, almost murdered the other...'

'So, the usual then,' Harry commented wryly, as he attempted to imagine the scene. Sirius and Snape attached side-by-side, the constant war waging between them as to who would do what and where they would go. 'Going to the bathroom would have been awkward.'

'James and Sirius never spoke about it again. Neither did Severus or Rosier. Had you asked one of them, they would have denied that week had ever taken place. Sometimes I think they purposefully Obliviated themselves in order to forget.'

'Probably,' Harry mumbled. There it was again, another reminder that he could never ask Sirius about this incident. He would never be able to ask Sirius about anything at all. The one person who was as close to family as Harry would ever get.

This was different from losing his parents. Harry didn't remember them. Of course he felt wretched about their deaths. Again, it was another one that was his fault, even at the age of one. They died protecting him, just as Sirius had done. There were always those moments Harry would find himself thinking about what would have happened had they survived. Would they have had more children? Would it have been possible for more Potters - a whole team of them to rival the Weasley's. Would his parents have still been together this far in the future? What would being loved by his parents have been like? Harry had experienced a small fraction of parental love while staying with Ron and his family, but he imagined it would not have been the same. It must be different with your own parents. It was things like that he often wondered from time to time.

'It's strange, isn't it?' Remus continued speaking. 'The thought that he's no longer here anymore.'

Harry's chest felt heavy and tight; his heart was contracting painfully deep inside him, as though a clawed hand was gripping it tightly, squeezing every ounce of life out of it, but it persevered. It thumped and thumped against his ribcage and did not stop thumping. Sirius' heart had stopped. No blood being pumped through his body; no life held inside. He was nothing more than an empty shell.

'That's the hardest part about it. I spent twelve years without him. I thought about him a lot during that time. I'm not proud to admit this, but I often found myself wondering if he had died in Azkaban; the weight of the guilt weighing down heavily on him. There was a part of me that wished for it, as penance for the crimes he had been accused of. That was when I was still convinced of his guilt.

'Everyone is going to be trying to tell you how it's okay,' Remus continued on. Harry was undecided on whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. This man had been his best friend, of course he was going to be as devastated and broken up about it as Harry was... almost. It hadn't been Remus' fault. 'They're going to try and tell you that he loved you and nothing can ever replace how he felt about you in his heart, and that you will always remember him in your own. It's repetitive and, quite frankly, not at all comforting. I suppose in situations like this no one truly knows what to say. It's understandable. Although I prefer it if people didn't say anything unless they were feeling the same. Don't you agree?'

Harry shrugged. He supposed. Even he wasn't sure what to say.

'I guess my platitude to you tonight is more along the lines of it doesn't get easier to deal with. It just becomes more tolerable. You were too young when your parents died. I thought the grief I felt then was going to crush me. My lungs didn't fill with air properly. I was suffocating on that pain. It feels very similar to that tonight. It's intensifying the hurt that was already there from the night your parents died. When that happened, I was angry for a long time. I was upset. I was alone, mostly because I had purposefully isolated myself. All I had was my grief as company. It was miserable and lonely and the weight of it became unbearable at times. There are still those days where I miss them more than others. Then, as more days passed, the weight on my chest lessened. I could breathe again. It still hurt, but it was easier to inhale and exhale. The days didn't seem as dark and bleak. There was light in the world again. That's just my grief. We all grieve differently. But it is going to pass. You're not going to find facing the day as difficult as it seems right now.'

'I don't want to face the day,' Harry piped up. 'Either I want to go back, or I want to stay right here. I don't want to go forward. I don't it to get more tolerable.' There was a part of Harry that wanted to feel this way. It would serve as a constant reminder for what he had done.

Remus sighed heavily, his eyes were glassing over. 'I wish we could go back too.'

'I'm sorry.'

'No.' Remus' voice was firm and commanding. 'No, you are not allowed to apologise. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me? Absolutely nothing wrong.'

'He's dead because of me.' The words sounded mechanical coming out of his mouth.

'You did not fire that curse at him. Bellatrix did. She is the one who killed him. Sirius is dead because of her. Not you, Harry, never because of you. You must remember this.'

Harry closed his eyes again. He had thought he had cried himself dry, this did not appear to be the case. Harry took a deep breath in, held it for five second, then released; he repeated this a couple of times to calm himself down. That was not how he felt. This was his fault. It had to be.

'But if I had just checked properly that Sirius was in Grimmauld Place, then none of this would have happened,' Harry reminded the older man.

'You did,' Remus pointed out. 'Dumbledore told me all about how you asked Kreacher. He was not your house elf, he did not have to divulge the truth to you. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent that from happening. You went by the information you were given. There is no way anyone at all could blame you for Sirius' death. Besides, he was grown adult and, not to mention, a convicted criminal. Sirius knew the risks of entering the Ministry.'

'He didn't expect to die though, did he?' Harry remarked, slightly angrily. Sirius, as much as he was hot-headed, he did not have a death wish. That Harry was sure of.

'No, he did not,' Remus sighed. 'As reckless as your godfather was, he did not want to die.'

'But he is dead.' Harry's tongue felt heavy, and the words only intensified the pain in his chest.

'He is,' Remus nodded somberly in agreement.

'I was only just starting to get to know him.'

'I know you were,' Remus acknowledged sadly. 'But you're not alone despite what you may be thinking. You have Ron and Hermione. You have the Weasley's. You have Tonks and Kingsley and Hestia and Emmeline. They all care about you very much, you know. Even Mad-Eye has a soft spot for you. You should hear the way he talks about you, and Mad-Eye does not talk about people like that unless they've made an impact on him. There's Neville and Luna. They would not have come to the Ministry tonight with you if they didn't care about you. They're good friends and you should keep them close. Then there's all the teachers. In his own way Dumbledore does care deeply about you, Harry. He may not show it very well but he does. McGonagall certainly does and Hagrid especially. There's a tremendous amount of people who are there for you and who care a great deal about you.

'And you've also got me. I'm not Sirius, and I'm not your parents, and there's no way that I can ever take their places, nor would I ever want to, you must understand that, but I am here for you. If you need someone to talk to, someone who understands, or if you just want to hear stories about your parents and Sirius, anything that you need at all, I'm always just an owl away. Regardless of where I am, Hedwig will know where to find me. Like Sirius, I lost out on years getting to know you, and I don't have very many people left either, so I don't want to miss out this time.'

Harry was silent again. What more could he say to that? He never knew Remus cared that much about him.

'I spent a long time hating who I am and hating the hand that I had been dealt,' Remus continued on. 'I remember when your dad and Sirius came to me with the news they had studied long and hard over four years to be with me while I transformed. As much as I was grateful and overwhelmed that I had friends who were so willing to do this for me, I was also afraid of what could happen. The wolf could have gotten out of control and hurt one of them. The wolf could have killed them. There were some nights that we were reckless. We were high on the euphoria of being together, sneaking out at night, and having this secret that no one else had. I can't say that I never hurt them, because I did, and each time that happened there was this 'what if' scenario in my head. What if I scratched them too deep and hit an artery? What if I tore them apart? What if I killed them?

'And I know that's currently going through your head - people die because of you. This is far from the truth, Harry. You are not the reason these people have died. Your parents were not your fault -'

'Dumbledore told me the prophecy tonight,' Harry said, cutting across Remus. His voice was robotic. It didn't sound like him. 'Dumbledore told me that Voldemort went after my parents because he wanted to kill me, because he believed that I could be the one to stop him. My parents didn't have to die.'

'What would you have had them do?' Remus questioned. 'You are their son. They loved you more than they loved anyone and anything else. Did you really think that they would have stepped aside to allow Voldemort to kill you? Do you think that Voldemort would have spared their lives if they had done that? Voldemort doesn't spare anyone. Voldemort, for as much as he proclaims to be a merciful lord, is not merciful in the slightest. They died to protect you because that's what you do for the person you love and care about. There was no doubt in either of their minds to lay down their lives for you. It was their choice and a choice they would make over and over again without hesitation.'

Harry's eyes burned with the force of holding back the tears that threatened to spill out. Hearing it didn't make it any easier. His parents died because of him, and regardless of whether it was their choice to keep protecting him until the very end, the fact of the matter is that they would not have been in immediate danger had he not been born, or hell, even if he had never been conceived. What if he had been born one day late? Would that have made a difference at all?

'Cedric Diggory was not your fault either.'

'But I suggested we take the cup together.'

'And Cedric chose to take it,' Remus countered. 'Going by that logic, Cedric killed himself. By taking the cup, and going to the graveyard, Cedric killed himself. It doesn't work that way, Harry. Just because you wanted to share the prize with Cedric doesn't mean you were responsible for his death.'

Harry huffed. 'It's not just about that. The cup would not have been a Portkey and would not have taken us to the graveyard if I had not been there. It happened because of me. Cedric ended up in the graveyard because of me. Cedric was killed because I was there.' Harry could not understand why people did not see this.

'That's true,' Remus agreed, 'but have you stopped to consider what it would be like if we took you out of the equation?'

'Look, I get it, but it doesn't matter,'Harry argued. He knew where Remus was going with this - if not him, then someone else. Yes, he had stopped to think about it, but, as he said, it didn't matter because this was their reality. No one else has this burden but him - Voldemort had chosen Harry. There were no if's or but's about it. Maybe Cedric would still have died, maybe he would have still been alive. There was no way of saying what would have happened or not.

'It matters a great deal, Harry. James and Lily; Cedric and Sirius, none of that was your fault. You have to let that anger and guilt go otherwise it's going to eat you inside. It's not going to make you better, it's going to make you worse. People are not better off without you, this is far from the truth. You're only as strong as the people you surround yourself with. They help to make you better. They help to make this fight you've got ahead more bearable.'

It was true, Harry had been thinking about this, about disappearing and seeking out Voldemort on his own. Could he do it on his own? Loneliness wasn't an unfamiliar concept to him, after all he had spent ten years in his cupboard, wishing and hoping for someone to come rescue him from his prison under the stairs, and hoping that maybe one day in school someone would be willing to stand up to Dudley and his gang and befriend him. Ron and Hermione had been there for him through it all since he started Hogwarts. Could he do this without them? If it meant keeping them safe, he supposed that he could; he could walk away and keep going. Would this be something his parents would do? Would Sirius? And deep down he knew the answer to that. Remus was right.

'It's hard,' Harry admitted quietly. 'How can I knowingly let people endanger themselves for my cause?'

Remus sighed. 'Honestly, Harry, we have to allow people to take responsibility for their own actions. We've all got freedom of choice. They choose to be there. They understand the consequences of their actions. Of course, no one wants to be involved in a war, but I honestly can say, hand on heart, that there is nowhere else I would rather be than fighting by your side through this. It was the same with Sirius and with your parents. I was surrounded by my friends - my family.'

Harry stared at the night sky; the stars were bright. Harry also knew that if the tables were turned, he would give out the same response. Perhaps it was down to his own circumstances and the path he had been thrust in to the moment he entered Hogwarts five years before, but had he and Ron switched places, Harry knew he would want to be there by his best friend's side as they fought the Death Eaters. His parents would do it, Sirius would do it, Remus does it, and he had to allow his friends this whether he wanted to or not. This was their choice. This was their right.

Would his parents be proud of him? They has said as much that night in the graveyard, but were they really that proud of him? Would they be proud of this?

'I'm going to kill Voldemort.'

'You are.' Harry was slightly surprised at the conviction in Remus' voice over those two words. 'You're a lot like your parents. Both of them.'

'I'm going to end this. I'm going to make them proud. To do that, I have to get through tonight.'

'You do. You've also got a lot of people behind you, Harry, don't forget that.'

Harry smiled faintly. 'I don't think I'm going to be allowed to forget that.'

When he decided to lie on the ground, Harry was torn between never moving from that spot, not wanting to continue moving forward, and being stuck in his grief, to being ready to leave everyone behind and begin his life of voluntary solitude; ready to live and breathe hunting and fighting Voldemort. Now, as the sun was starting to rise, the sky streaked with hues of grey, red, and orange, Harry's chest finally loosened, his breathing getting easier, and his mind having done a complete three-sixty. He didn't think he could get through the next few days, weeks, months, and even years if he didn't have his friends behind him. He needed them if he was going to defeat Voldemort once and for all, and he was going to succeed. He was going to do it for Sirius.

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