Only one day
First and second years are sitting in their common rooms, still shaken and afraid from what they have seen. Third years are trying to comfort them, distract them, keep them away from any danger that may be outside. Some of the youngest Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws begin to question what they thought they knew about the four Hogwarts houses.
They remembered the Slytherin prefect who shouted over the cacophony of spells, "I'm sorry! It's too late! The battle's started! Come into our common room. We'll keep you safe." They reluctantly followed down through the dungeons and into the common room. They'd made sure they all had enough to eat and drink. They'd given each one of them a place to sleep. They'd cast silencing charms to block out the din so they wouldn't be afraid. They'd enchanted candles to float and change colours like nightlights, because some of them were afraid of the dark. They answered all their questions, and told them stories, and played games with them if they couldn't sleep.
"How could this house be evil? They're so kind. I don't understand why everyone said they were bad," they said, after recounting their experience to the older students.
"They aren't evil. They aren't bad. But, as you ought to know by now, not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. It's just a coincidence that most — not all — most of them were in Slytherin. Especially Lord Voldemort. He started this his messy business probably more than fifty years ago, probably in a quest for immortality, which spiraled into quests for power and blood purity. He, like many other dark wizards, wrongly believed that a wizard or a witch was more powerful if he or she was born to wizards, and less powerful if he or she was born to muggles. A little less than twenty years ago he went to kill Harry Potter's parents, but the curse rebounded. He was thought to be dead, but came back three or four years ago. He came yesterday with an army of dark wizards, all but one were Slytherins. Peter Pettigrew was the Gryffindor, he gave Voldemort the Potters' location. That's how he killed the Potters. Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. Remember, not all Slytherins are bad. Their reputation has been tarnished by the few people who did very bad things. You can't trust everyone, but you don't have to be scared of anyone at Hogwarts. Everything's going to be okay now. The dark wizards who were Voldemort's followers did many bad things, but they're going to be locked up in Azkaban. Everything's going to be okay."
Meanwhile Madam Pomfrey paces the hospital wing trying to think, but there's too much going on. She heals wounds and tends to injuries as quickly as she can, leaving as much as she can to the trainees and students. She has to leave, she has to tell someone. As she finishes tying a bandage she hears the now-Headmistress's footsteps. No matter what mood she was in, she always felt the same sense of joy when she saw the patient relax in relief.
Professor McGonagall always had a quick and purposeful was of walking, but this was different, her feet hit the ground faster, harder, she seemed agitated. "What is it, Professor? Is something wrong? Are there anymore injuries?" She asked worriedly.
"No, no, everything's alright. There's just a lot going on, there's a lot of damage, but everything is going well. I remember there were a lot more people when I checked in an hour ago. What happened?"
"There was a good sum of people who'd fainted, shock mostly, and exhaustion. All they need is to wake up and have a drink and something to eat. And of course there's lots of minor injuries, they've been tended to and just need some rest. We sent them all to the dormitories with a friend or family member with them to keep tabs on their recovery. But there's a problem, Professor, and no one can find out about this until we've got this sorted out."
"This sounds bad. I won't tell a soul. What is it?" Her voice shook.
"It's… complicated. First there's Nymphadora Tonks, she's not dead, she went unconscious with shock when she found out Remus Lupin was dead. And Remus, himself, he's not dead either, but his condition is much more serious. There's a pulse, it's weak, but it's there. I don't know how long it could take for him to come around, especially in his condition, but it won't be any time soon. Then there's Fred Weasley, he's quivering between being alive and being a ghost." The headmistress took a deep breath as she thought about what ought to be done. "Nymphadora and Remus can go to a dormitory, I'll check Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. As for the Weasley, keep him here, but don't let him be seen, and do everything in your power to keep him from becoming a poltergeist. If there's anyone who can defy the laws of magic and become one, it's him, and we're in no condition to deal with another one, though as mischievous as he and peeves are, Fred has a certain respect for authority and his family."
She left for the Hufflepuff common room, and walked straight in, she'd cast a spell to remove any security in the castle until they were done making repairs and tending to the wounded. She told the oldest student there, "There are two patients, a male and a female, and we need to put them together, one is a Hufflepuff and one is a Gryffindor —"
"Put them in the girl's dormitory, Professor, there's no one there." The girl answered. She thanked her and left for the Gryffindor common room anyway.
The Gryffindor boys dormitory was crowded with students. In nearly every bed lay a child, unaware of the worried companion who watched them. Some friends sat on chairs beside the beds. Some sat at the foot of the beds. One lay beside his brother. She went straight for the last bed, furthest from the door. There lay a man, but she saw a broken soul, an aching heart, a life lost. She saw the baby dropped on a doorstep, fast asleep. She saw the frail boy entering Hogwarts. She saw him growing up but still he looked small and frail compared to his peers. Then she saw the man. She saw the unruly jet-black hair, an inky stain on the pillow, covering his forehead, but even worse than before. She saw the glasses askew on his head. She saw his body sprawled out on the blanket. She saw his clothes, old and damaged, worn out of use. She saw the scar. She saw his sleep was not rest, but an escape. She held back tears, how sorry she felt for the boy, how sorry she felt that he did not have the chance to grow up as a child should, how sorry she felt that he could only just survive the eighteen years of his short life so far. All this she saw in the space of four seconds, four footsteps. As she neared him he jolted upright, his glasses nearly flying off, hanging by his ear. "I'm so sorry, Professor. I - I never meant to stay for so long. I know I should be helping —"
"No, Potter, please rest. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything that happened to you. Please rest, you defeated Voldemort. Just rest, please." The velvet curtains had become drawn around the bed. For the first time as a teacher, she spilled tears in front of a student. She wiped the dirt off his face and whispered, "You need it, you've needed it for a very long time." Then she stood and drew the curtains around him. She stayed facing the window until she'd regained her composure. The she turned and walked swiftly out of the dormitory.
Later in the afternoon, Andromeda Tonks sits between two beds in the Hufflepuff girls dormitory. To her left is her daughter, lying unconscious, but still very alive. To her right lies Remus Lupin, hooked to oxygen and a pulse measuring machine hooked up to a monitor, both to his right. The beats were weak, consistently weak, terrifyingly consistently weak. As she tried to silence the crying baby in her arms, she noticed her daughter's faded pink hair turn bright bubblegum again. She turned over as she opened her eyes. "Where…? Oh it's the dormitory! Hey, this is the bed I had when I was at Hogwarts!"
"It was mine, too. How are you feeling, Dear?" She smiled and reached out her arm, "Give me my baby," she said. She sat up and rocked the boy against her chest, "I'm sorry, Teddy, I was gone too long." She whispered. Suddenly she remembered why she'd been out in the first place. "Remus! Remus! Mum, where is he? Mum! Where's Remus? Is he alright?" The grandmother took her daughter's hand and stood her up gently. As she caught a glimpse of the man she gave the baby back to his grandmother. She flung herself onto his bed and cried, "Remus! Oh, Remus! Remus! What happened? Mum, will he wake up soon?" She took her son and turned around, he shouldn't see his father like this. She looked up at her mother with tears in her eyes. "I don't know, we asked Madam Pomfrey and the experts at St. Mungo's, and we haven't got a clue. We never seen anything like this before. We're expecting him to come around in a few months, maybe a year, maybe even two. We really don't know." She tucked the baby in the bed and let him sleep. He seemed perfectly at home in the dormitory. "Mum, when was the…" She began, sitting beside her mother, "Oh no, I can't remember… is it… it can't be… is it tomorrow?" Andromeda nodded. "No! It can't be tomorrow! He can't do it! He won't be able to handle it! It'll kill him! We will give him his potion… won't we? We have to! He" Andromeda took a deep breath, "Like you said, he's very weak. We will give him his potion, we'll try to make it stronger, and hopefully he might not even transform. Like I said, we've never seen this before. We won't let him die. Get back into bed, darling, relax, I'll get you something from the kitchens—"
"You've been there too?"
"It's part of the Hogwarts experience, honey."
"Thanks, Winky, what's in these?" She head Ron ask the elf.
"There's buttered bread, fruit, and sweet surprises, Master Wheezy."
"Thank you! Oh, hello, Mrs Tonks!"
"Hello, Mr Weasley. Is this a special package they're making?"
"It's for anyone who's been unconscious. I've really got to go now, though!" He ran off with the basket in his hands. He was thinking of what he'd just seen and heard. He remembered a very flustered-looking McGonagall telling him to check on the Gryffindor Boys. He didn't know what she meant until he saw it. He saw his best friend, looking like a complete mess. He'd never seen him like this. He stood, almost horrified, at what he saw. He lay sprawled on the bed, still in his old clothes, his glasses hung on by his ear. Ron hurried to do whatever he could without waking him. He put the glasses on the bedside table and wiped his face clean of all the dirt. He unlaced his shoes and took them off, careful not to wake him. He pulled the blanket over him and sighed. 'I'll have to wait until he wakes up. Until then there's nothing I can do, but I have to stay beside him.'
He remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he noticed his head turn towards him, his eyes open groggily. He didn't want to remember the conversation they had, but he had to. He couldn't push it to the back of his head, he had to remember. He had to go back and continue. He remembered how he exclaimed "Harry! Harry, you're awake! Are you alright?" He remembered picking up on every little thing Harry did: how he tried to sit up; how he barely got a word out without yawning, or his eyes drooping, or slipping beneath the duvet again. "I'm… I'm alright… I suppose… I'm tired… but otherwise… I'm fine." Ron saw through his words, there was more he should have said. He looked into his eyes and saw pain, suffering, exhaustion and relief. No longer did he see the eyes he met on the train. Those eyes were happier, they had a flicker, a flicker of joy that was new to them. "I know, Harry. I know you're tired. You did more than anyone else here. You shouldn't go back, you need to stay a while longer." Harry smiled half a smile, he didn't dare smile more. He felt guilty taking pleasure in rest. 'Have I gone bad?' He thought, he'd thought that many times. He didn't know how to feel anymore, too many things had happened. "Just wash yourself off, for now. You need to sleep." He put his arm around him but he shook it off. "I'm fine, Ron. I can walk." He was shaking as he stood up, his knuckles were white from gripping the bedpost. Ron shook his head and put his arm around him. Only then did it occur to him how pale Harry looked. Only as they were walking did he notice that Harry was quietly muttering something to himself, but he saw his lips quivering and teeth chattering. Over and over again he repeated, 'Stop before you start, be still my beating heart.' Had he been saying that the whole time? How had he not noticed? He leaned him against the wall and asked, "Are you alright, Harry?"
"Wh… What? Yeah, I'm fine, Ron. What it is?"
"It's OK, it doesn't matter right now. I'd take you to the Prefects' Bath, but there's too much damage. Just clean yourself up, and relax, there's no rush. Don't feel bad for this. You need it. You need to rest. I'm just going to run and grab something, we'll talk more when I get back. Oh, and, last thing, hot water is great for sore muscles."
He took a deep breath before entering the common room. Of course he wanted to see Harry, to help him, but there were things he didn't want to see. He didn't want to see the tired body, the aching heart, the broken soul. He especially didn't want to see the eyes. The eyes, oh, the eyes. To look into the eyes drowned him in a wave of anger, sympathy and compassion. He had learned not to pity Harry, he knew he didn't want to be pitied. Try as he would he couldn't feel the pain as he did, it was different, something he couldn't tap into. When he walked into the dormitory he saw Harry sat on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a light blanket. Harry leapt to hug him, but was still weak and shaky. He dropped the basket he was carrying and put his foot back against the wall to stop himself falling. He wrapped his arms around him and sat him back down, sitting beside him. "Hey, feeling better?" He asked.
"Yeah, better… not my best, but better. I still feel tired, not so much physically, but… but… you know what I mean…"
"Of course, I understand. It gets better, Harry. You'll feel better soon. You just need time." He took his hand and suddenly realized how pale it was, how pale he was. "Harry, are you sure you're feeling alright? You look so pale—"
"No kidding, Ron. I've always been—"
"No, I'm serious. Your hands are milky-white going on spoiled-milk green. This is bad. This is really really bad. And your forehead's red," he put his hand on his forehead for a moment. "You're feverish—"
"It wasn't the hot water," Harry said defensively.
"No, it wasn't. If it was you'd be red all over. This is bad. This is really really bad." He supported Harry with one arm as he drew back the blanket with the other. When he lay down he pulled the duvet back over him. "I really hope this is just because you've exhausted yourself —"
"What, Ron? I'm fine —"
"NO, Harry! You're not fine! You're shivering and you're shaky. You haven't slept properly in way too long, and you haven't eaten well, either. You're feverish and you're pale and you can't even stand up, let alone walk. You need to stay in bed. You need to rest. For a few days, at least, can you promise me that?"
"A few days, I can do that. But why are you so worried? What's the matter with my hands?"
"You know the muggle girl who works are the post office? Yeah, well, she dances, she takes classes somewhere. When she was younger and Ginny was little they used to dance together. And she talked about her classes a lot, she said they'd turn and turn and turn. And she'd turn so fast blood would rush to her hands and they'd go red, and red spots would appear. Then they'd go white. And once she said her hands had even went green. It's really scary." Harry propped up his pillow and sat up, resting against the headboard. He took Ron's hand and smiled. "It's okay, Ron. It's alright. If it's anything like what you're talking about it'll all be gone in a few hours. By the time we've gone to be tonight it'll all be gone."
"You… what? How…?"
"There was this really snobbish girl at the muggle school I went to who went to some prestigious dance school." Ron smiled warmly, he felt comforted having his best friend back. Harry. Harry Potter. Harry Potter who hated attention, and had a only wanted to help the wizarding world, who was fair, and funny, and just a great friend. It was same old Harry. He opened the basket and rummaged through it. Looking up, he said, "I'm so glad you're acting like this. It's annoying, but it's comforting. I'm so glad you're still the same old you. Anyway, you need to rest, you need to eat. I'm going to go now, and, I might come back tonight before we go to bed, but we'll see." He stood up and hugged Harry, before placing the basket on his lap. He felt a sudden urge to kiss his forehead, like his mother had to him, but instead he swiftly left the dormitory. There was a time and a place, and this was neither.
As soon as he entered the common room, he walked straight into his sister. "Ginny? What are you doing?"
"What do you mean, 'what am I doing?' The day's up! Nearly everyone's gone home. I've come to see Harry. He's alright, isn't he?"
"Of course he's alright! How did you find out?"
"You told me, silly! You were on your way to the kitchens!"
"Yeah… I did. Did you tell anyone?"
"Well… not really… I told Mum, and Hermione, and Hermione told Hagrid. But they didn't tell no one else. That alright?"
"Yeah, that's great. That's everyone who needs to know. So everyone's gone home?"
"More or less, I told Mum I'm going to see Harry. She's gone to fetch us stuff from home and she'll bring it when she comes to see him after I'm done."
"Well in you go then! See you at home."
Ron sprinted out of the castle and apparated back to his house. "Mum! Mum! Mum, are you there?" He called out.
"Ron? Ron, dearie, are you back?" She replied, running down the stairs.
"Yeah, Mum, I'm back. I've just been with—"
"I know, with Harry. Is he alright?"
"Yes… he's alright… he's with Ginny now. I asked him to rest, stay in bed for a few days at the very least and…"
"And what?"
"He was reluctant. He was… almost… in denial. He was denying everything about his condition. He was saying it himself but he was still denying it! I'm worried about him, Mum! I'm so worried, it's— it's scary!" He said, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. She hugged him and wrapped her arms around him. "It's alright, Ron. It's alright. He'll be alright. You'll be alright, too. I'm going to see him, now. Come on, child, help me get his things together. See if you can find anything else you want to give him." Reluctantly he followed his mother upstairs to where Harry had left most of his belongings little less than a year ago.
Ginny walked into the boys dormitory and saw Harry look up at the sound of her footsteps. His face lit up when he saw her face, and she ran the last few steps towards him and around his bed. She took his hands, her knees dug into the mattress as she steadied herself, suddenly noticing his now ashen face and hands . "Harry! You're alright! I was so worried— I thought you— you'd be—"
"It's alright, Ginny. I'm fine, you don't need to be worried, I promise."
"But I do, Harry! You're not fine! You really need to eat something. Now." She grabbed the basket that he'd placed on his bedside table. "That's what Ron said…"
"And no wonder, wait any longer and I'd say you looked worse than when I first saw you. And your hands! I didn't notice! This used to give me nightmares… oh my goodness… it's like when…"
"I know. Ron told me. About the girl down at the post office and the dancing. I know. I just wish it would all stop!" Ginny held his hand and put her other arm around him. So this was the inside. This was what he didn't show. This was how deep she'd gone. She knew he wasn't talking about the story. He was talking about his whole situation. "I know, Harry, I know you want it to stop. I know how much this bothers you. And it will stop. Everything will get better soon. But, Harry, you need to understand that you can't just keep going like there's nothing going on. You need to rest. You need to eat and you need to sleep. You have to understand that you are indeed hurt and you need to heal." Harry wriggled out of her arms and smiled. She produced a soup bowl and some buttered bread and a spoon. Harry peered in and his face lit up when he saw an ice-cream serving plate with a treat he hadn't seen in years. "What is it, Harry?"
"It's a Knickerbocker Glory. It's a muggle thing. Uncle Vernon let me finish half of Dudley's once because he wanted another one or something."
"We'll go on then, you can have it, but do try to eat something proper afterwards. I'm going to see what mum and Ron are up to now, I think they're done." She leaned in as she stood and pulled him closer to her. She kissed his lips and felt his smile widen, "Goodnight," she whispered as she pulled away.
She had barely stepped into the common room before she started fidgeting and squealing excitedly, "He's getting better! He's getting better! He's finally going to be happy!" For a few minutes she relished this feeling, never before had she felt so comforted and relieved by something to small and simple as a smile. It was as she walked out of the common room that she realised she had no way to get home. She ran out of the castle, across the grass to Hagrid's Hut. 'I'm screwed if he's asleep right now. Why are you so STUPID, Ginny?! I REALLY should have planned this!' She scolded herself. She knocked on the door hurriedly and shifted from foot to foot, sighing a deep sigh of relief when a sixteen-foot-tall man opened the door, "Well, if it ain't the famous Ginny Weasley! Wha're you doin' 'ere so late? Everyone's gone home, innit?"
"That's the thing, Hagrid. I know I've never done anything for you, and I feel terrible asking this of you—"
"No, don't yeh worry 'bout anythin'. What is it that yeh're askin' for?" He asked her, crouching down and picking her up in his hand. She felt shy and awkward asking for such a favor, almost ashamed. "Go on," He prompted, "We're jus' comin' out of a war, we is, we've got to 'elp each other. Tell me what yeh need."
"I… Erm… I need to get home… but I don't know when Mum'll be back to see Harry."
"Hold on a minute, I'll go get me bike an' I'll give yeh a ride!" A moment later Hagrid reappeared with a black motorcycle. She climbed into the sidecar and sat gazed at the nearly-demolished castle, courtyard, quidditch pitch and landscape. She tucked in her legs and put her chin on her knees. Suddenly she felt so small and vulnerable compared to the giant. "Too slow. We'll never get yeh home in time like this. Time teh test 'is last addition." He tugged on a lever and the motorcycle whizzed through the air. "Is 'Arry alright?" He asked.
"He's getting better, needs to stay in bed for a week or so, but then he should be able to go out and do work and all. You can see him tomorrow if you like."
"I don' know if I'll be able teh ge' in teh the common room!" Hagrid laughed. His laugh was a deep and rolling sort of laugh, warm and comforting. The sort of laugh that could make anyone feel better. She smiled as she stared at the ever-changing scene below her. "Too fast fer yeh?" He asked.
"No, not at all, it's lovely. It's like riding a broomstick, really." She took a deep breath as they approached the rolling hills and fields of Ottery St. Catchpole. What would her mother say about this? She'd surely be scolded, she didn't know Hagrid the same way Ron and Charlie did, it wasn't her position to ask a favor this big, she should have stayed with Harry until they arrived, what if something happened to him? But what could happen to him? He was sitting in bed eating ice cream. Hagrid pushed the lever back and they began to slow down once again. She sat normally once again before the motorcycle landed on the grass. "Thank you so much, Hagrid, I owe you one." She said, climbing out of the sidecar and running on the grass.
"Don' worry abou' it, see yeh tomorrow." He took off again, shrinking, disappearing into the great darkness of the night sky. She ran into the house and clambered up the stairs. "Mum! Ron! Are you there?" She called. She went to Ron's room, where she remembered Harry had stayed the few days he was there, "Mum?" The mother turned around and dropped everything she was holding to run and wrap her in a rib-crushing hug. "Ginny! You're back! Are you alright? Is Harry alright?"
"Yeah Mum, all is well —"
"Is it now? That's not what— you know what, never mind this! I'll find out when I see Harry myself. I trust you found a responsible way to get home?"
"Yes, I did. Are you nearly ready to go?"
"Only just, I've still got to put everything in his trunk. Start packing for me while I see what Ron's up to. Protect the fragile stuff." Ginny stepped into the bedroom and her mother turned to follow her son who appeared to be staring blankly into an old cupboard. "What are you looking for, Ron?"
"I've forgotten where we kept the eiderdowns. I was sure they were in this cupboard."
"Indeed they are," she replied, crouching down to open a low drawer, "Inside this drawer, safe from dust. This one's only been used once," she muttered studding it in the crook of her arm, "This one hasn't been used, put it with my knitting and sewing things, someplace where I'll remember it." She shut the drawer and cupboard, returning to his bedroom.
Half an hour later the mother stood outside with a book-filled leather satchel slung over her shoulder, a case nearly bursting with the belongings it held, and an eiderdown still in the crook of her arm. "Mum, are you sure you can apparate with all that? Should I—"
"Of course I'm sure, Ron, don't worry! I'm not even fifty yet and I'm in perfect health! I killed Bellatrix for goodness sake! Oh, I do hope Harry isn't as bad as you say he is, Ron, though knowing him he probably will be, and as good as Ginny says he is at the same time. I'll make sure everyone's come back before I do and then I'll fix dinner." With a deep breath she picked up the trunk, turned on her heel, and then she was gone.
She landed on the field of desolation that was the Hogwarts courtyard. 'I suppose McGonagall removed that apparition thing too,' she shrugged, 'How odd I must look carrying so much, I don't think the ghosts would mind though.' She sighed before entering the common room. What would Harry be like? Would he be better than what Ginny had said? Would he be worse that what Ron had said? What if he'd already fallen asleep? There was only one way to find out.
The common room was just as she remembered it, and the boys dormitory seemed nearly identical to the girls. She noticed Harry was at the very end and approached him quietly. "Hello, Harry," she whispered, "How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?"
"I think I am. I'm feeling tired, but I want to get back to work tomorrow." Mrs Weasley sighed as she sat down beside him. She took his hands and smiled warmly. "Why do you want to start working again?" She asked. She knew if she wanted to truly understand him she'd have to do a lot of digging. "Because… because I have to." Harry said, somewhat hesitantly. "And why do you think you have to start working so soon?" She asked, again.
"I don't think I have to. I know I have to. It's not right for me to be doing this. Lying around… while there's so much to be done… Hogwarts is my home. I owe it to the school and everyone here to help piece it back together."
"But you don't, Harry. You've done more than enough just by still being here. You've gone through so much already, you've done so much already. And you're not well. You need to —"
"But I am." He interrupted, "I'm not as bad as everyone says I am. So I didn't sleep well one night. It's fine! I'll just catch up on sleep tonight."
"Harry, no! Don't you see that you're sick? When was the last time you've had a proper meal? You can't remember because it's been far too long! You haven't slept properly for longer than it's healthy. And… this way you're thinking… that you can't rest… you can't do what's good for you… it's— it's sickness! Harry, you have to understand that even if we can't see it, it's still a problem. If you broke your leg, would you keep walking on it? If you broke your wrist, would you keep casting spells on it? If you caught dragon pox, would keep going like there's nothing wrong?"
"No, but—"
"But NOTHING! You have to let us—"
"I'm not a child anymore Mrs Weasley. I'm seventeen years old—"
"That's what I'm saying! You have to let yourself do what's best for you too! But you have to understand that what's best for you isn't the same as what's best for someone else."
"Mrs Weasley, I know you mean well, but if there's anything I've learned from you (and I've learned a lot) it's that you don't take nonsense, and this… this…" Harry had noticed a hint of vulnerability in Mrs Weasley's voice. It was something he'd never seen since she'd taken on the role as his mother figure… well, maybe he'd seen it once, but he really shouldn't have that time. Yet those two years between felt like so much longer.
"You're right Harry," Mrs Weasley said. Her voice was gentler now she'd had a chance to take a deep breath. "You're right, this is nonsense. I know I seen old-school, but I've still got my mother's instinct. I know when a child is ill. This way of thinking is nonsense. You shouldn't have to hide your mental state, you shouldn't have to hide your emotions. You should feel free to let people know what you need. Promise you'll stay and rest for a week at least." Mrs Weasley stopped. She said nothing. All she did was observe. She had to see how Harry would react, what he'd do, what he'd say. He took a deep breath, contemplating. "I'll do it, Mrs Weasley, I'll do it for you." She sat quietly and nodded. Was she not satisfied with his answer? He held the silence for a little while longer. "Mrs Weasley, I have to ask you something, but please, please don't…" then he blanked, so Mrs Weasley finished for him. "Say what you like, Harry. I promise I'll be calm with you."
"Am I… have I gone bad Mrs Weasley?"
"Harry, how many times have you asked yourself that question?" Mrs Weasley asked gently.
"I don't know."
"That's alright. When did you start thinking that?"
"I don't know. It was just there."
"Can you tell me when it became more prominent?"
"Fifth year, when He started getting into my head."
"Oh… oh I see. That makes sense. Are you afraid to say Voldemort's name, Harry?"
"I wouldn't say afraid, Mrs Weasley, but, it's difficult. I don't want to be bad but he close to took away my childhood. Now he's gone I… don't know what to do anymore. I always wanted to be a normal child, but I'm not a child anymore."
"Of course, Harry. Of course it hurts. Tell me, now, what makes you think you could be bad?"
"I… can't quite explain it. Sometimes I just want to get away. I don't want to be around people anymore. I just want to relax. I want to lock myself somewhere and escape the world, but I can't. I need to be here. I need to help."
"Oh Harry, you poor child." Mrs Weasley smiled warmly and put her arms around him, "Oh Harry, what has this done to you. Harry, you are such a good child, you are such a good person. Harry everyone needs their time away, but you especially. Harry, none of this was right. You shouldn't have been sent to live with your… relatives. You shouldn't have been allowed to do most of the things you did at Hogwarts. Many teachers there shouldn't have been. Everything could have been dealt with so much better. Can you imagine how much better you would have felt inside if Draco's bullying had been properly dealt with? If there had been a specialist you could talk to about your experiences? Can you imagine?"
"I… n-no, I can't. But why didn't you call them—"
"Family? Because blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Why do you love us Harry? Why do you love our family?"
"I don't know, I just started out friends with Ron. I guess we just got along and then it happened."
"That's where you're wrong Harry. You and Ron went through a lot, and that's what makes your friendship that much stronger. You remember when Ginny couldn't talk to you? When you and Ron weren't speaking? When Percy left us? When Arthur was bitten by Nagini? We've had our fair share of ups and downs, but we stuck through it together. You love us and we love you because we care about each other. That's what makes a family, not blood relations."
"So I don't owe them anything?"
"No, not at all. You don't owe anyone anything. If people want your respect, they have to earn it. If they want your love, you have to want theirs too. Love is unconditional."
"So I can rest if I want to."
"Yes! That's the spirit. I feel like I've finally understood how to talk to you. It's not that you don't know you need it, it's that you won't let yourself have it. Did I get it right?" Harry nodded and yawned. "Oh, I think I've gone a bit to far today."
"No, you haven't. I feel better, I just need to sleep. I feel like I need a few days to not really do anything." Mrs Weasley nodded and tucked him in the eiderdown. She set to tidying his belongings and kissed his brow before she left. Goodnight sweet child, she thought, let me raise you, and bring you up once more.
Author's Note: This is just the first chapter and the next ones probably won't be as long. This fic is the one I'm currently writing, and I'll slowly start uploading my previous ones when I'm done, so you might notice that they suddenly turn horrible and then gradually get better again.