Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters created by JK Rowling's genus.
Author's Note: I'd like to thank Tabra aka Pandora for always being willing to read my writings, even at the roughest stages. You give me far too much credit and support, thank you so much. A big inclusive thank you to all those pals at lit who allow me to rant and rave Harry Potter related talk even though "it's not a Harry Potter chat room".
Dumbledore was dead. Harry began each morning with the same thought. Dumbledore was dead. Slowly sliding out of his bed in "his" room at his aunt's home, Harry pulled his glasses on and shot an absent glance out the window. The early morning sun was obscured by clouds and he could tell that the fog was still there. Since returning to Number 4 Pivet Drive a week before, the weather seemed to mirror Harry's mood. Although both Ron and Hermione had tried to insist upon their accompanying him to his aunt and uncle's home, he'd managed to keep them at bay, reminding them he needed only stay until his birthday. This house was dreary enough to wallow in his own misery without having his two best friends sinking into it as well.
Sighing, he reluctantly moved from the room. Downstairs he could hear the sounds of the Dursleys preparing for the day ahead. The scent of food carried up the stairs to him, his stomach did a lurch. Since returning, food seemed unimportant and held no taste. He forced himself to eat daily, but it was more a mechanical action and one he only pushed through because he knew the tasks ahead of him would require energy and strength.
Trudging downstairs, Harry could hear the muffled sounds of a conversation going on at the breakfast table. He walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Aunt Petunia had already made him a plate; Apparently Dudley was no longer on a diet since breakfast consisted of eggs and bacon. He felt his uncle's gaze train on him, but for once everyone seemed content to keep their thoughts to themselves. In fact, since coming back here, they had gone out of their way to keep the peace. Probably relieved that he would be leaving for good at the end of next month, Harry thought. Looking back at his plate, he wasn't surprised to see the food gone. He rarely noticed eating, getting dressed, or any of the other daily rituals he completed without his full concentration.
After putting his plate in the sink, Harry returned to his room and lay back on the bed. Hedwig's cage was empty, he'd let her out the night before to stretch her wings and hunt. He noticed the cage needed to be cleaned, but he shrugged it off. His mind was focused on the thoughts that had occupied his mind since that fateful night. If he closed his eyes he'd see Snape and the flash of green again. He would see Dumbledore's body fly off the castle roof. He would hear Faulk's eerie song. He would remember it all. He would feel it all again. Then, he would hear the prophecy echoing in his head. It all came back to that. His future held only two choices. He could die or he could become a murderer.
Sitting up, he cupped his head in his hands. He knew it had to happen. Voldemort was already too powerful and now that Dumbledore was gone the magical community had little leverage against him. Of course the Order was still in action, but Harry knew their numbers weren't near enough to battle the growing horde of followers of Voldemort. Somehow, he thought, somehow I'll find your horcruxes and I'll destroy them one by one. He knew there was little hope in convincing Hermione and Ron to let him go on this "adventure" alone. It was difficult enough convincing them he'd be alright at the Dursley's until his birthday.
He heard Hedwig outside the window and stood up to let her in. Hedwig flew straight to her cluttered cage and hooted reproachfully in Harry's direction.
"I know, Hedwig," Harry replied the implied complaint. "I'll clean your cage soon." He noticed then that she held a letter in her foot. Tossing a handful of owl treats and making sure she had clean water, Harry removed the letter and sat back on the bed.
Inspecting the writing on the front, Harry realized it was from Remus. He wondered why Remus would be writing to him this summer and suspected it was an attempt to convince him to finish his final year at Hogwarts. Sighing he opened the letter and found another envelope inside with Remus' letter. Now this was odd, he thought. Setting the second envelope aside, Harry read Remus' letter, hoping for some explanation.
Harry,
I'm sorry that this is the first time I've written, but this summer is shaping up to be more eventful than last year and I've found myself busier than normal. I had hoped to find some time to visit with you, but I'm not sure that will be possible, we'll see.
You're summer's been quiet thus far, I hope. You know that should you need anything you can owl me anytime (at least I hope that you know this). I know that this has been a difficult year for you, but you must realize that you are not alone and there are people that you can depend on, even if you aren't currently in their company.
I'll write soon, and I shouldn't need to remind you to BE CAREFUL. Now is not the time to be lax in safety.
Remus
PS…Just as I was about to post this to you, a letter arrived for you from America. I'm sure you'll have many questions, but read it first. I'll be in touch, stay safe.
Harry frowned. America? Who'd be writing to him from America? He turned the envelope over and read the writing on the outside. It had been sent by Muggle post, there was proper postage in the upper right corner. He remembered with a smile the one time that Ron had tried to use Muggle post to send him a letter. You could barely read the address that time. Whoever had prepared this letter was at least knowledgeable of Muggle post. Not only was the postage correct, but there was even a return address.
Ms. Larentia le Fae Dorrington
33 McNeils' Street
Salem, Mass.
Mr. Harry J. Potter
12 Grimmauld Place
London, England
Harry studied the writing and name. Who was this Larentia Dorrington and why was she writing to him? Shrugging off his questions, Harry opened the envelope and pulled out a letter and a photograph. The picture caught his attention. It showed Harry as a baby cradled in the arms of a woman he didn't know. Flanking her as she held his wiggly baby self were two men he was very familiar with. One her right stood Remus and on her left was Sirius. Both were looking down at this strange woman and Harry with a mixture of awe and humor. Her gaze left Harry's face only to smile occasionally at the camera. When she looked up, Harry heard himself gasp. Her eyes caught his attention, what a strange shade of green, he thought. They were so light, so icy looking. This woman, whoever she was, was lovely. Her flame red hair fell in a cascade of curls, disappearing down her back and over one shoulder. She was small, nearly doll-like, Harry thought as he watched her studying his infant form. There was something different about her, but he couldn't really think of what it could be.
Harry forced himself to put down the picture and take up the letter. The same large and feminine handwriting filled the page and as he read, he got a better idea of just who this Larentia was.
My dear little Harry,
I know that you have no idea who I am and you are no doubt wondering who this strange woman in America is and why pray tell is she writing to you. There is no easy way to answer these questions. Well, there is, but I think that the full story should be one told in person.
Perhaps I should at least introduce myself, given that the last time you saw me was your first birthday and you were hardly old enough to have a lasting impression of me. My name is Larentia Dorrington and I was Lily's best friend at Hogwarts. In fact, I was Lily's best friend after Hogwarts as well as your godmother. I'm sure that comes as a shock, or perhaps by this point nothing is a shock any longer. I know that this bit of news brings up many more questions, not the least of which is probably where I've been these last sixteen years. That, I fear, is one of the questions I'll have to answer in person.
This is one of the reasons for my writing this letter to you. I wish to meet you, Harry. That is if you'll agree to meeting with me. I know that I've given you no reason to want to meet me, but I hope that you'll give me an opportunity to explain my absence from your life. Another reason was that I have been notified of Dumbledore's death and I know what a heavy blow this must have been. He was a great wizard, Harry, but more importantly a wise man. I know that losing him so soon after what happened to Sirius must have been very difficult for you. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you during those times. Lastly I thought perhaps it was time for you to receive a few things that James and Lily put in my keep when they took you into hiding. Regardless of whether you wish to meet me or not, I'll send those possessions to you as soon as I'm sure you've been able to receive this post.
I'm sure you're wondering why I didn't send this to your Aunt Petunia's home instead of to Sirius'. I'm quite aware of what a letter from "one of those freaks" would cause in that house. I'd rather you not have to endure any further hardships from your guardians if possible. Please send me your answer as to whether you'll meet me or not. Feel free to use owl post; I just thought my using a non-magic means would be easier for all involved. Be safe, Harry.
Sincerely,
Larentia
PS Should you want to "check me out"; which I'd understand given current circumstances, you should talk to Remus.
Harry sat the letter in his lap and picked up the photograph again. His mind raged at this news. She was his godmother. How could this be and why is this the first time he'd learned of her? Studying her face, he could tell that she cared for baby Harry. There was tenderness in how she cradled him to her and her focus was on him, not the camera or anyone around them. Sighing, he fell back on the bed and tried to decide what he should do. He thought about telling her to forget meeting him, he had to prepare for what lay ahead of him, but something told him not to disregard her that quickly. Harry lay on his bed and for once, when he closed his eyes, he didn't see the terrors that he'd witnessed the past six years.