Disclaimer : Own nothing. Don't make money of it.
A BIG THANK YOU to my two wonderful betas Yukka and Sara. Wouldn't be able to go on without you.
Chapter one : Summer hols
Harry was running down an endless stair. He didn't know why, simply felt like he had to. As if something was waiting for him down there. Something he both wanted and dreaded. He kept running and running until reaching a cavernous room at last. He knew this place. This was where Bellatrix killed his godfather that fateful day in the Department of Mysteries. Except that there was no Bellatrix around, not even members of the Order and Death Eaters fighting. Just him.
Then Sirius appeared out of nowhere, and Harry had the overwhelming urge to run to him, hold him and never let him go. He had been so stupid to not open Sirius' present. If he had, he would never have fallen into Voldemort's trap, and his godfather would still be alive. Harry took a step toward Sirius but realised too late that Sirius had his wand drawn and pointed at him. Harry scarcely managed to dodge his hex.
What the hell was going on?
Harry saw his arm moving on his own accord and soon Sirius and he were fighting to death.
"Come on, Harry, you can do better than that!" His godfather laughed.
Sirius was openly mocking and provoking him. How dared he laugh as if it was all a game? As ifhe was not risking his life? Anger boiled through his veins. He wanted to hit his godfather for being so immature. He wanted to hurt him. Oh yes… Hurt him for abandoning him. As if in answer to his last thought, a baby voice – the one of Bellatrix – echoed in his head and urged him on. 'You have to mean it, little Harry. You must want to inflict pain and savour every minute of it. Come on, I know you can do it. Let me show you…'
And this time, Sirius didn't manage to duck his hex. The jet of red light hit him hard on the chest. He fell and fell – it seemed to last for endless moments until he finally fell through the veil and disappeared. The baby voice was chuckling in his head but he didn't have any strength left to shut it up.
"Sirius, no…" he moaned.
Harry jerked awake. Eyes wide open in the dark he forced himself to lay still until his breathing became normal again. He didn't want to think about his dream nor what it could mean. He concentrated on the house instead. It was deadly silent, which meant he didn't scream this time. Which was good. He didn't particularly like having uncle Vernon bang on his door and shout at him to shut up. Uncle Vernon had never once entered his bedroom to shake him awake since he came back. In fact, he no longer touched Harry at all, afraid that he would report him to his 'dangerous freak friends'. Not that Harry wouldn't have done it anyway simply for the pleasure of paying Vernon back for all the years of abuse he suffered.
The thing was, he wanted to be left alone. It was bad enough that he had to write to someone every three days in order to avoid them all to turn up and fuss over him and pity him. More than anything, it was the pity he sensed in their replies that he couldn't bear. People no longer acted normally around him. He couldn't tell what unnerved him the most: Hermione, who talked about Sirius' death all the time, hoping he would share some of his grief with her - and kept saying how sad she was. Or Ron, who didn't talk about it at all. His parents, Cedric, Sirius… The number of people dying around him increased with each year, and there was nothing he could do to prevent that.
Never in his young life had Harry felt so helpless and so scared of his feelings. Voldemort had used his love for his godfather against him. Who would it be next time? The war was near, Harry had to get stronger. He couldn't afford risking every witch's and wizard's lives because someone he loved died. He had to rationalise things. He had to get used to the idea that people close to him may die. People he loved and cared about. He had to protect himself somehow otherwise he would turn mad with worry. He knew this was what he should do, but Merlin, was it hard. He was only a kid, a sixteen year old teenager (soon to be, anyway). Idolised for something he didn't even remember and who didn't know anything about witchcraft before he was eleven. He was an average student and a complete disaster at occlumency. His abilities were nothing compared to those of Hermione and he couldn't plan a strategy for the life of him, unlike Ron. How was it that experienced aurors like Mad-Eye or Tonks and even Dumbledore, who defeated Grindelwald, expected him… HIM! to vanquish the Dark Lord? They were just loosing it.
Harry heard a sound coming from the kitchen and realised it was now half past eight. Unable to fall back to sleep, he decided to have an early breakfast. If he worked all day in the garden perhaps he would be able to have a decent night's rest for once. He got up swiftly and dressed in an old pair of baggy jeans that used to belong to his cousin. He didn't even bother to take a shower for he would be all sweaty in less than an hour.
The kitchen was as spotless as ever. His aunt Petunia must have heard him going down the stairs for she was transferring some fried bacon and eggs on a plate when he entered. She gestured impatiently for him to sit down, a strained smile on her lips.
"Hurry up. Your uncle and cousin will be down in a minute" she said, her hands shaking slightly.
Five minutes later, Harry was taking his empty plate to the sink when his aunt interrupted him.
"Leave it to me" she said.
"All right. Hum… I'll be in the garden" he murmured.
She nodded silently in answer.
That's how things have been since the beginning of the summer. Sort of strange, he must admit. Whether it was because of Remus' and Mad-Eye's threats or because of Dumbledore's howler he didn't know but his aunt had been more… accepting since his return. He no longer had chores to do and was now allowed to eat his meals with the rest of them. Of course, his uncle and cousin ignored him most of the time but it was fine. Better being ignored than insulted. His aunt was not particularly nice to him but she no longer had that look of hatred in her eyes when she saw him and in her own way, seemed to have come to care for him. Or so he deduced the day she silently filled his plate with more food than usual and kept glancing his way, making sure that he ate at least some of it. There really was something amiss with his aunt for her to realise he had barely eaten the days before, and more than that, to actually try to do something about it. She couldn't be that scared of Dumbledore. What puzzled him most though, was Vernon's lack of reaction regarding his wife's new behaviour. That, in itself was more frightening than anything else. Harry made sure to keep a low profile at all times, avoiding his uncle and cousin like the plague and keeping to himself.
Whatever it was that made them change so drastically, Harry was grateful for the respite it gave him. He had enough to worry about without adding abusive Dursleys on his list: his scar hadn't hurt once since the Department of Mysteries, and the Death Eaters had been strangely quiet. Now that the ministry had finally acknowledged Voldemort's return, Harry thought they would have taken a great pleasure in terrorising the wizarding world again. But then, with Malfoy senior imprisoned in Azkaban, they had lost their main leader. So now they were all waiting.
Harry hated that. It unnerved him to no end not knowing what to expect. He couldn't help imagining what Voldemort was up to and each time, his assumptions were getting worse. What if Malfoy managed to escape? What if the Death Eaters began attacking muggleborns? What if Hermione was targeted?… What ifs indeed.
July 31st came soon enough. Harry was now officially sixteen. He didn't know what to do of it for in his mind, each day brought him closer to the moment he would have to fight Voldemort and either kill him or be killed by him… but now was not the time to worry about such things. Before long, there would be heavy-charged owls tapping on his window. Harry grinned: receiving gifts was the part he enjoyed most about birthdays. He wondered what his friends would send to him. He couldn't guess about Ron but Hermione would probably give him something school-related.
He decided to laze about in bed a bit. He strained his ears but all he heard was his uncle and cousin getting down the stairs and leaving the house an hour later. He waited some more but still… no owls. To make it worse, the postman didn't even stop at their house. He finally had to get up when Petunia knocked on his door asking if he was feeling all right. Count on her to forget it too. With the way she was acting lately, he thought she would at least have wished him a happy birthday.
The day slipped away gloomily. Harry had retired to his bedroom and was reading his best Defence against the Dark Arts book for the hundredth time when Vernon called him. He went downstairs shuffling his feet.
"Here you are boy," snarled his uncle. "We are going to the restaurant. Without you," he added with malice. "You are to stay the night at Mrs Figg's. Oh! There she is already, he gloated hearing the doorbell ring. Good, good. Now, hurry boy!"
Harry ran up to his room and grabbed a few things for the night. When he came back down, Mrs Figg was waiting for him in front of the door, engaged in some small talk with Dudley, who was so unctuous that he looked about to be sick.
"I'll bring him back tomorrow then, around ten in the morning."
"That will be perfect" answered aunt Petunia.
She ushered her dear Dudley back in and began to close the door. This day was just getting better and better, Harry thought. Everybody forgot him, and now he was kicked out of the only place, where he would have at least been able to mope in peace. Now he had to spend the evening with Dumbledore's watchdog instead! Harry felt quite wary of the old lady now that he knew she was a squib and had been watching him all these years. He looked helplessly at his aunt Petunia but she just smiled and closed the door.
"So, how have been your holidays so far, Harry?" asked Mrs Figg.
"Fine" he answered curtly.
Due to their slow pace, it took them close to ten minutes to arrive at Wisteria Walk during which Harry had heard all about Pumpkin. (Pumpkin was the last feline Mrs Figg took in). He was, according to her, a nice ginger little kitten with brown streaks and vivid green eyes ("Just like his, by the way"). She had found him all wet and famished in the back garden two weeks prior. It was hard at first to approach him, so she settled on feeding him until he was accustomed to her. Then she took him in…
Here Harry thought her prattling was over because they were reaching her door. Unfortunately, she only paused during the time it took for her to find her keys after which, she began talking again. How could he have believed her when she said her cat-obsessed personage was all an act for the Dursleys?
"SURPRISE!"
Harry shrieked. Actually shrieked. Like a scared girl with the jumping and wide eyes and heart racing and all.
"You thought I was going to bore you to death, didn't you?" winked the old woman.
They were all there: the Weasleys, Hermione, even Neville, Remus, Tonks and Mad-Eye. And they were all laughing at him.
"Should have seen your face, mate" Ron said, patting him on the shoulder.
"Put all of us girls to shame," agreed Ginny.
"Harry!" he heard before having his arms full of a Hermione hugging him tight.
"Hum… Hermione?" poked Harry blushing. "Not that I don't like you… But not in that way, sorry."
"Boys!" exclaimed Hermione exasperated.
Then:
"Happy birthday!" the three shouted at the same time.
Harry blushed like mad. Now everybody was looking at him. Neville waved shyly at him from a corner of the room. Harry wished he could join him and hide there until morning came. Molly seemed to sense his embarrassment. She ushered him into the living room to take a sit at a large table upon which gifts were piled.
"Come on Harry, open them up!" urged George.
"Yes go on, mate," added Fred with a sadistic gleam in his eyes that didn't ease Harry's fear about what they choose for him.
Sure enough, his first gift was labelled 'Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes'. It looked like an inoffensive bottle of lemonade but when Harry took a sip – talk about Gryffindor foolhardiness at that point – his hair began alternating colours and lengths.
"Wicked!" exclaimed the twins.
"Fred! George!" shouted Molly. "I hope this is not something permanent, young men!"
"Well…" began Fred.
"It's just that…" hedged George with a guilty look on his face.
"It's just what?" panicked Harry, his hair going from white blond to curly and blue to different shades of purple in a matter of seconds.
"Please…" he implored. "Tell me it is temporary. Oh no…" he moaned, desperate. "You didn't even test the thing, did you?"
The twins burst out laughing.
"Don't worry, it'll only last a couple of minutes" said Fred.
"You're no fun!" whined George. "We could have baited him some more!"
"Here. That one is from me" cut Neville, handing him a middle sized package. "Don't shake it, it's fragile."
Harry ripped the paper carefully, curiosity on his face.
"Thanks Neville" he said, admiring the small rose bush.
"Ours now!" demanded Ginny.
And so it went. Ginny and Ron offered him a Quidditch pair of gloves – Ron was working with his dad this summer, so he could afford such a gift. Hermione gave him a potion text book, for he had been admitted in the advanced class (how he did it he couldn't tell however). She got one for Ron too but he just grimaced. Remus gave him a DADA book. Tonks surprised him the most: she offered him a new set of clothes, an emerald green shirt and tight black jeans that made him self-conscious just looking at them. 'For your next date' she murmured at his ears, grinning.
The lights went off and everybody sang "Happy birthday" while Molly brought a huge cheery cake in.
"Make a wish" whispered Hermione.
I want Sirius to be here with me now. He immediately scolded himself for such a stupid wish. He wouldn't think of it on his birthday. He wouldn't. But it was already too late. Harry forgot all about his slice and excused himself. He needed some time alone but he didn't know where to go since it was not his house. He decided on the toilets – sure that no one would dare to disturb him there and locked himself in.
Harry didn't feel Hermione's and Molly's gazes following his progression to the door. Both women exchanged worried glances. Molly raised from her chair only to be stopped by Remus' hand on her shoulder.
"I'd rather go."
"Remus…"
"Molly, don't. I know what you are trying to do. I appreciate your concern, I really do but I doubt that Harry wants you to fuss over him like a mother hen in front of his friends."
"I'm sure it's about Sirius. He should talk about it," Hermione said in her know-it-all voice. "We are here to help him."
"Hermione…" sighed Remus. "Perhaps he doesn't want to. Not yet anyway," he added seeing that the teen was going to protest.
Hermione frowned but otherwise kept silent, obviously disagreeing with Remus.
"Everybody has a way his way to deal with grief. Because yours is talk about it doesn't mean it's Harry's."
"I should go to him," cut Molly
She looked ready for a battle.
"Molly… Harry would have come to you already if he wanted your help. You are like a mother to him. Right now though, he needs someone who can understand him. Sirius was my best friend. I know what Harry is going through. Let me go to him."
Molly slowly nodded her consent.
In the bathroom,Harry had circled his knees with his arms and was focused on breathing deeply, rocking back and forth. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
"Come on, you can do better than that!"
Harry whimpered, his body trembling. His breathing was harsh now and he could feel the tears threatening to fall. No, no, no. Oh my God, will he stop crying one day? He couldn't contain the tears anymore so let them go and hide his face in the crook of his arms so as not to be heard.
He couldn't tell how long he stayed there. He felt cold and empty inside. He knew that he was a mess and that his face was all red and puffy. He tried applying cold water on it but it didn't seem to work so he resigned himself to go back to the living room like that.
What he didn't expect was to find Remus waiting for him behind the door. He didn't trust his voice enough to ask him how long he had been there but one look at the compassionate eyes told him it must have been quite some time. He suddenly found his shoes to be of great interest.
"I miss him too, you know" Remus murmured, his voice sad.
Harry bit his lips hard to stifle a sob. He was done crying like a baby. But then, Remus' arms were embracing him and he suddenly felt warm again and protected. Remus' hands were soothing him, rubbing his back and arms in a comforting way. Harry sobbed but it was all right now because Remus was there and he didn't have to keep it all inside of him. He didn't have to be Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world. He could just be Harry.
When his tears finally dried up he felt exhausted in a way he had never been. Still holding him, Remus sat against the wall and took him in his arms again. Harry settled himself and slid his head between Remus' neck and shoulder.
"Sometimes I hate him," he confessed. "I hate him because he left me and now I'm all alone."
"You're not alone Harry, I'm here. I may not be part of your family, but I'm here. And I care about you."
Harry nodded. He was tired. His eyes fluttered shut and a moment afterwards he fell asleep. Remus carried him back into the living room where the others were waiting apprehensively.Molly whispered for everybody to go into the kitchen while she transfigured the couch into a bed.She tucked Harry in and kissed his forehead.
"Will he be all right?" asked Hermione when the two adults came back.
She eyed each of them in turn.
"I hope so," answered Remus.
On waking, Harry felt totally disoriented. The bed was too large and warm to be his own, and the furniture was terribly old fashioned. Then he remembered that he was at Mrs Figg'. Everything came back to him in a flash: his birthday party, the crying and how he fell asleep in Remus' arms. He couldn't help blushing at the memory, vaguely ashamed at his actions. He shouldn't have burdened Remus with his problems. Remus, who was now fast asleep in an armchair by his side Harry felt warmed to know that Remus had been looking after him all night.
A movement in Remus' lap cut Harry's train of thoughts. Something was moving under the plaid covering him. Remus stirred in his sleep and his hand went under the plaid to catch what was there. He opened his eyes the same moment he extracted a ginger furry ball: Pumpkin. The kitten was hanging all lifeless at the end of Remus' arm looking innocent while Remus stared at him, brows frowned – probably pissed off at seeing his sleep disturbed. Harry couldn't help giggling, they were just too funny.
"Nice to see you awake" groaned Remus, still half asleep. "Give me a minute, would you?"
He tried to stand up but his body would have none of it. His joints cracked under the strain and he massaged his neck, obviously in pain.
"You should have transfigured another bed" said Harry.
"No need for it. It's not as if I get that much sleep nowadays anyway… Shall we have some breakfast?"
They both headed to the kitchen. They heard Mrs Figg before they actually saw her. Her back was turned on them. She wearing a dressing gown that was so old you couldn't even guess what colour it used to be. She was cooing at a horde of cats, telling them silly things in a high pitched voice while feeding them. Remus watched her for a few seconds, obviously amused by such a display, before politely clearing his throat.
"Good morning, Mrs Figg."
"Good morning, Mr Lupin, Harry… Pumpkin! Where have you been all night?" she exclaimed when she saw the ginger kitten make his entrance, its step nonchalant.
Pumpkin mewed once as if to answer the question then purred and rubbed itself on her legs. She petted him for a bit before straightening herself and saying: "You will have to hurry. It's already nine and I promised to bring Harry back at ten. You were sleeping so well that I didn't want to wake you up too soon" she apologised.
"It's all right, Mrs Figg. It won't take us too much time to get ready. I would like to walk Harry to the Dursleys, though, if you agree."
Mrs Figg nodded.
"Try to be nice to Mrs Dursley, would you? She is not a fundamentally bad woman. Just happened to marry the wrong man, which didn't improve her personality."
"I will," promised Remus.
The walk back to the Dursleys was made in silence. Harry wondered how to act around Remus now. They had not spoken a word since breakfast when he had tried to apologise for the night before and Remus had waved it aside. All he knew was that a line had been crossed. He could no longer see Remus as only a former teacher or one of his parents' best friends. When he had held him, he had become something more. Someone he could rely on. He was more than a friend now. Was it all right? Remus had said that he cared about him but he didn't know why. Perhaps Remus felt he had to protect him only out of a sense of duty. Perhaps he only cared for him because he was the last reminisce of what his own life used to be - because he was James' son and Sirius' godson. After all, few people cared for who he really was.
It doesn't seem to bother him much though, what happened last night, Harry thought glancing at Remus. It didn't feel like he felt forced to comfort you either.
Harry's steps became lighter at these thoughts and he was almost smiling when they reached 4, Privet Drive. That is, until he heard Dudley's heavy footsteps in the corridor and saw his massive body blocking the door.
"Dad! Mum!" he shouted. "Harry is back and there is one of those…"
Dudley inhaled sharply upon recognising Remus. He took several steps back, his body shaking in fear, before running to the living room.
"Daddy! It's… It's… HIM!" they could hear him whine.
Aunt Petunia came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.
"Come in" she said.
Uncle Vernon appeared in the kitchen's doorway while she was putting the kettle on the cooker. His eyes were flashing daggers and his face was red from contained anger.
"What is that freak doing in my house?" he shouted at Harry. "Were you not supposed to stay with Mrs Figg?"
Dudley was watching him from the kitchen door, obviously waiting for the moment he would be punished.
"I…"
"Is that Mrs Figg the old lady I met down the street?" asked Remus, all the while playing with his wand. "She suddenly remembered she had an urgent appointment."
"I bet she is one of yours!" accused Vernon.
Remus smirked.
"You jinxed her!" shrieked Dudley from the doorway.
The poor boy was still traumatised from the pig incident.
"That cannot be, son" reassured Vernon. "There must be laws…"
"Indeed there are, Mr Dursley, but what I did to her was not illegal. I didn't harm her, just got rid of her with a light memory-altering charm" lied Remus smoothly. "Want to test it?"
"Petunia. I swear, if you let that… thing," he spat "stay longer in our house while he threatened our very lives I'll…" he ranted.
"You will what?" asked Remus with a smile.
Even Harry felt a shiver ran down his spine at the threat underlying his tone. It reminded him that Remus turned into a dangerous creature once a month and it frightened him because he knew what he was capable of. The threat was all the scarier because of his smile. Perhaps it would do him well to remember that tactic. Perhaps next time he willl have to face a Death Eater he would be able to scare the shit out of him that way. Hum… Come to think of it, probably not.
"Vernon… You remember what we have talked about? Let me deal with it, would you?" said Petunia calmly.
"What! You want me to let you alone with that freak?"
"Yes, Mr Dursley, that is exactly what she meant."
Remus had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Vernon. No… He wouldn't? Thought Harry. Vernon certainly thought he was in danger if the speed at which he fled back to the living room was any proof of it. Remus cast a locking charm on the door before lowering his hand and setting his wand on the table.
"Sugar? Milk? Lemon?" asked Petunia matter-of-factly.
"Milk only please," answered Remus cordially.
Harry's eyes widened like saucers: aunt Petunia and Remus acting all polite… He couldn't believe his ears. Aunt Petunia didn't even flinch at the sight of magic, though he could see she was rather tense. Perhaps it was all a dream. Yes, that was it. He was dreaming and would wake up soon.
"Harry, all right there?"
"Hum…" he murmured absently. "Just waiting to wake up… Ouch! What was that for?" he asked rubbing his sore forearm.
"Waking up," answered Remus mischievously.
Harry glared at him but Remus was no longer looking at him, his eyes focused on his aunt Petunia instead, as if trying to decide how to begin the conversation. Harry sipped on his tea and stayed still, while internally dying to know what it was all about. Finally, before the silence became too unsettling, Remus began talking: "I just wanted to make sure it was still all right if Harry left on August the 25th. Arthur Weasley will pick him up."
"It is." she answered. "Is that all?"
Remus nodded.
"I will walk you back then. Harry, you should bring all your things back to your room. Lunch will be ready in half an hour." She added.
Harry grabbed his birthday presents and began to climb up the stairs. He was heading to his bedroom, when he saw that Remus and Petunia were still engaged in conversation in the doorway. Remus asked a question and she nodded. Then Remus left and Petunia closed the door, leaving Harry perplexed as to what had been said but sure that it had somehow concerned him.