First of: Any and all characters, situations and everything else you recognize belongs to either J.K. Rowling or 20th Century Fox. Everything else is me dabbling the in universe they created. No money is being made by this work of fan fiction, etc etc.
Hi all, this is my first time writing and this particular chapter was written in a sleep deprived haze. I've checked and triple checked so I think it's kind of alright, feedback would be very welcome, so R&R!
Breaking Façades
Chapter 1 -Just fine-
Connections. They are what make us human, they are what make us belong. The connections you form, form you. Looking back at one's life it is possible to see the crossroads. The points in your own personal destiny where, if you took the road less travelled on, you would be fundamentally different from who you are now. Different meetings, different situations, being on time for that bus and meeting the love of your life. Missing that flight and losing your job and all that you build with it. Humans become stagnant, we form connections our whole life, but after childhood most of those connections are between like-minded others. This we keep doing until we have limited ourselves to that corner of society that belongs to our label.
When our connections are, for some reason or another, broken, we have to rebuild. The strength of character that takes is your personal measure of greatness. It cannot be compared to another's suffering and, indeed, should not be. For suffering is suffering, there are no gradations as such, for one cannot compare to another's suffering without having been that person in all that he or she is. Walking a lifetime in another's heart and mind.
Connections are, on a more base level, also that what holds our bodies together. Quarks, protons, electrons, neutrons, atoms. DNA gives us gifts. Some of us are capable of putting the meaning of life in numbers, others have so much empathy that they cannot condone suffering.
Yet others can convey emotions with just the sound of their voice or the power of their writing. In some of us those gifts shine so brightly one man or woman can inspire entire generations; Ghandi, Curie, King, Mandela, Angelou. In yet others those gifts explode with such conviction they activate an entire community or indeed saves them; Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan, Sir Nicholas George Winton, Sylvia Rae Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson.
All of us have these gifts within us, how they are used depends on the connections we form and the convictions we have. Even if you just inspire one person, you could be the catalyst of a change that has been waiting to happen. That is the power of the human race, what sets us apart from our more primal co-inhabitants on this earth . But what if, through evolution, those beacons of power grow into something more. Something we might only be seeing the beginning of right now.
-Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow, and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.- Professor Charles Xavier
Everything was fine, not perfect by any chance, but just fine. And fine was good, it meant no surprises, no psychotic murderers coming back from the grave (again) to kill you and those you hold dear. Life after the war was just fine and Harry liked it that way. Being brought into another societies war at the tender age of eleven, after growing up in a household that did nothing to encourage and protect a young child had left its marks, Harry knew that. But as every human being who has gone through adversity does, he had learned to cope. And that was why everything was fine and could never be less then fine.
Fine for Harry meant living the Wizarding world's picture perfect dream life for their chosen one. In all honesty, this meant being there when pictures needed to be taken and to fight against the dark so to give the populace some sort of peace of mind. In other way's Harry walked his own path. Marriage for example, was out of the question, the occasional hook-up was fine. Marriage was most certainly not fine, marriage meant people coming too close and while he could easily keep up the façade of being the perfect hero for the sheeples, even Harry had to break down every once in a while, when things where less then fine. As he became more set in his ways in the years after the war. More confined in the safety of the façade, where he knew what people expected of him, the "less then fine" almost ceased happening.
Of course, for the purpose of this story, it cannot stay that way. And truly, life is not complete without some adversity, a full life has high's and low's not just "fine's". Façades break, and Harry would figure that out eventually...
September 24th 2008
"Today is a fine day" Harry thought as he went about his daily ablutions. And indeed it was, the sun was sort of trying to peek out through the clouds, it wasn't too humid nor windy. Nor was it too warm or..."Fine, today is fine and that is all that needs to be said about it" Harry thought.
After putting his robes on, Harry wandered downstairs, opened a window to let an owl, carrying the Daily Prophet, in. Putting some sickles in a pouch carried by the rather harried looking animal, wondering all the while what could make an owl look harried. Harry poured in some coffee with his sugar as he opened the sorry excuse for a newspaper to read about the next scandal that a ministry official wasn't able to cover up by burying it under a mountain of gold. Not finding anything of much interest, as per usual really, he checked the Quidditch scores out of habit to see if the Chudley's had gone up any more in the rankings.
After all, when your best mate is the team's coach, you have an obligation to keep up with, at the very least, the rank the team holds. Not seeing any change since the last time he checked (which was the day before) Harry drank the rest of his overly sweet coffee and got ready to go to work. After debating walking over apparating, and quickly deciding to chose the latter, after all things only stay fine when contact with the outer world was as limited as possible. Harry popped over to the nearest ministry appointed apparition point and made his way through the throngs of wizards and witches doing the exact same thing. Moving through the masses in a practiced choreographed dance of chaos and order. The sudden appearance of people, one after the other, in flashes of green or following a small popping sound, all going towards their destinations within the ministry building, was quite beautiful in a strange way. But none seemed to notice, as for them it was business as usual.
After the war Harry had little time for rest and relaxation, he needed to keep busy. The demands of the Wizarding public to see him cutting ribbons and taking pictures with babies (alright maybe it wasn't that bad all the time) kept him from thinking too much about all that he lost. The job offers flooded in, even without him having finished his N.E.W.T.'s. Hermione, sweet, reliable, scary as hell Hermione made sure Ron and he finished their education. That was the last year of what should have been his childhood. Social contact was really limited for Harry. Most people couldn't see passed his Chosen one status and after trying to form closer bonds with people other than Ron and Hermione, he gave up. Ron, Hermione and the Weasley's where enough. Teddy and Andromeda he felt an obligation to, but his fear of hurting Teddy kept him at the distance a family friend usually has.
After graduating with average scores and an above average social standing Harry went for a career in Magical Law Enforcement. After all, what other choice was there? Ron joined him and both of them served five years on the force until both realised that this was, most definitely, not the job of their dreams. The work required so much more paperwork then the both of them expected. And, besides that, after the first few years most ex-death eaters where rounded up. So all that was left was going after petty criminals. Ron made the decision to follow his real dream, Harry followed him partially and resigned as an auror. With no clear idea of what to do next he confined himself as much as possible to Grimmauld place, making that his safe house. A place where he could always retreat to when in need.
Hermione experiences with the ministry left quite the bitter taste in her mouth. Working as a glorified librarian in the Department of Mysteries for four years was all she got with her perfect scores. The brightest witch of their generation had to fight and work not to be demoted. After a couple of years it became quite clear that a promotion was never going to happen. And all of this because of her, in the eyes of the prejudiced old farts who still held a lot of sway, less than perfect bloodline. Reality is harsh, but one can forge their own path if one is willing to work for it. And, surprisingly, in the case of Ron and, not so surprisingly, in the case of Hermione, they were willing to work hard.
As mentioned before, Ron worked his way up from broomstick handler to coach of the Chudley Cannon's, his favourite Quidditch team. That last promotion happened only three months ago and he was ecstatic. The party thrown at the Burrow was large, loud and gave Harry a whole new appreciation for the colour orange. Harry thought that for Ron, life was finally fine as well. No longer in anyone's shadow, outgrowing many of the insecurities and strengthening many of his talents made Ron successful and well loved. Ron kept Harry company, got him through some of his darkest moments and thereby solidified his place at Harry's side as his rock.
Hermione forged a different path, incensed by the still present bigotry she wanted to be the catalyst to a change. The Hermione who once started S.P.E.W. had grown up, not losing any of her fire but it was more tempered. More under control, and that is what made her all the more dangerous. She returned to the mundane world, she remained in contact with Ron and Harry but refused to work in Wizarding Britain. After catching up with the mundane education she missed whilst at Hogwarts, Hermione eventually found her niche at the Kings College in London. There she studied Molecular Biophysics and obtained her master's degree in it. She always found time to be with Harry, where Ron was unmovable she was the fluidity that Harry needed to continue on living. Sometimes as gentle as a stream, more often as powerful as a tsunami, Hermione's will was what made Harry keep going. She eventually convinced him to do something different, to do something that would make Harry happy.
Harry floundered for a while, having enough money to comfortably live a couple of years without the need of work, there was little pressure. The Wizarding populace was at this point less involved, the war was over and many of them fell back in their comfortable lives where everything was fine. Harry no longer needed to be in the spotlight constantly and thus decided he wanted to see more of the world, mundane and otherwise. He spent two years travelling all over, never really making an impression just watching from the shadows, observing the life of others in different cultures. Harry noticed subtle differences between him and others his age. Where Harry himself seemed both more weary and grown-up, others seemed almost innocent. He missed so many milestones in his life that connecting to others who hadn't walked the same path as Ron and Hermoine had with him, was difficult. There was no jealousy within him for that innocence, he cherished it in a way. It was so different from the world he was forced to grow up in. Mundanes saw the world as a place to discover, to learn from. Evermore forging onwards in their curiosity and changing the landscape of that world for good and bad. In comparison the Wizarding world was stagnant and Harry could see no way to change that. This love for that powerful curiosity of mundanes made Harry that he eventually found a job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation . Specifically in the newest and lesser known sub department of Muggle Relations. The job wasn't that interesting, but it was fine and that suited Harry to a T.
September 30th 2008
The last three years had passed in a blur for Harry, a fine blur, but a blur nonetheless. Sadly life has a way of changing pace when you least expect it. For Harry that was today, but that realisation would come somewhat later. In a couple of years this would be looked back upon as Harry's personal crossroad, the day he was forced onto the path less travelled on. Because fate, that's why.
"Today is a fine day" Harry thought as he went about his daily ablutions. And indeed it was, the sun was sort of trying to peek out through the clouds, it wasn't too humid nor windy. Nor was it too warm or..."Fine, today is fine and that is all that needs to be said about it" Harry thought.
After putting his robes on, Harry wandered downstairs, opened a window to let an owl, carrying the Daily Prophet, in. After having paid the wet looking bird "Wait..wet?" Harry thought but immediately pushed the thought as far out of his mind as possible. Grabbing his cup he poured half a cup of coffee and then filled another third of it with sugar. Grabbing the inexplicably dry Prophet. "Magic" Harry muttered to himself. He opened the paper his eyes not really taking much in, as in his world he knew what to expect. The human mind is after all quite capable of ignoring any and everything that does not belong in ones expectations, in the patterns we create for ourselves. Having built up his safe place with magic and illusions in his own mind, anything that did not go the way it was supposed to go was ignored. Thus none of the news really penetrated Harry's thoughts. If it had he would have realised today would most definitely not be fine in any sense of the word.
After again deciding to apparate to work, Harry quickly fell into the dance of orderly chaos that was the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic at rush hour.
Arriving at his desk in a small office shared with his superior, an older witch named Evelyn Darcy, Harry got his first surprise of the day. Surprises had become a hated thing, but as is the nature of a surprise, one can hardly control it. Sitting at the desk of his superior was none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt, minister of Magic himself.
"Good morning, Harry" Kingsley said cautiously. Harry shifted somewhat on his feet, why was the minister of Magic sitting in his office? This was not how the day was supposed to start, or even end. There was nothing in his calendar even suggesting a meeting with Kingsley. What's more, meetings with the minister of Magic where usually reserved for the head of the department. Harry was no more than a junior undersecretary, a perfectly fine job which allowed him to work without being noticed overly much.
"Minister Shacklebolt" Harry replied equally cautiously. If one were to step into the office at this exact point in time one would think the minister of Magic was trying to soothe a rather frightened animal. Looking at the slayer of Voldemort, that actually would be a rather apt description. Harry looked ready to bolt, his only reason for staying put was that maybe, just maybe, everything would still be fine. Maybe Shacklebolt just wanted to talk to Darcy and was waiting for her in the office? Not that that made a lot of sense but it would mean Harry's world would still stay and be fine. "How have you been Harry?" Harry looked quizzically at Shacklebolt, as if he asked if the world was still round or the sun was still rising and setting. "...Just fine, minister".
"Right, well that's... good? Don't let me keep you from your work, I'm waiting on Mrs. Darcy to come in. I assume you've read this morning's Prophet?"
"The wet owl... it started with that bloody, not supposed to be anything but harried, owl!" Harry thought and absentmindedly nodded as affirmation to the ministers question. "Good, then you know this is serious, I'll have Mrs. Darcy fill you in after we've had our meeting with the Prime Minister." Shacklebolt said as Evelyn Darcy walked into the office. Evelyn Darcy was a petite woman with a clarity of mind not often found in magic folk. She was practical and old fashioned, as growing up in the mundane world during the second world war had forced her to be.
" Good morning Evelyn, did you get my owl?" Evelyn nodded absently, "Yes, I assume you want to leave as quickly as possible?" she asked whilst hurriedly shoving some parchment into a smart looking briefcase. "She looks properly harried and not at all wet" Harry thought absently.
"Yes, right now would be best" Shacklebolt agreed. "Mr. Potter, I need you to hold the fort so to speak. There are a couple of things to take care of, but nothing as urgent as this, so please just do your regular work and I'll fill you in when I get back." Mrs. Darcy looked at Harry, waiting for a response. "Yes, my regular work, I can do that. Regular is fine". "Of course Mrs. Darcy"
"Good, well what are we waiting for minister?" Shacklebolt looked at Harry as if sensing something was dreadfully wrong but that something was so intangible, so fleeting that he couldn't put his finger on it. With a shrug he decided, that mystery would be solved another day. As both the minister and Mrs. Darcy left the office to go do whatever had them in such a state, Harry sat behind his desk and started to do his regular work. Still trying to pretend everything was fine, but subconsciously knowing something was most definitely not.
And then the headaches started again, that meant things where really less than fine in Harry's book. He always assumed they where a by-product of basically dying in the final battle against Voldemort. In the beginning, during his seventh year at Hogwarts, they where a nearly daily occurrence. Leaving him so exhausted that he was next to useless during most of the day. This made him pick up occlumency again, the meditation exercises seemed to work, slowly but surely Harry built a shield around his mind. Locking the headaches out and leaving everything else in.
Later, looking back, it was quite easy to realise that's where the trouble started. Having mental issues combined with an awakening power that was attributed to something else entirely made occlumency a really, really bad choice. It gave Harry too much control over the mask that he had taken to wear every day. It made him stagnant. And mental stagnancy in an abused child who never got the necessary psychological care is a bad thing. Mental stagnancy in an abused child soldier who had to witness atrocities committed by a sociopath first hand and never received psychological care is a really, really bad thing. Put magic in the mix and you just can't predict what the outcome shall be. Or at least they couldn't predict it then. One thing that those with PTSD have in common is a need for control over their environment. Keep things simple and predictable and nothing will set you off. Change one variable in the pattern of control and the whole pattern changes and control is lost. When that control is lost the reactions to it can also be semi-predictable; fight, flight or freeze are the three choices. Avoidance of the situation that causes the lack of control will be the first subconscious step, but Harry already did that successfully for the last three years. And as mentioned before, you can't control every aspect of life.
"I can't stay here, I need to go. Be somewhere safe, home... yes home is safe, leave now...go home" Harry didn't notice the smaller objects on his desk, starting to shake. He didn't notice both of the desks slightly rising and he most certainly did not see half of the quills in the office suddenly lodging themselves in the ceiling. No, all Harry noticed was that his occlumency shields which seemed to be failing. And that meant he needed to go home before he had a complete breakdown at the ministry. Trying to find a quill, he never noticed all twenty of them dropping from the ceiling, one landing in his hand. Quickly scribbling a note to Mrs. Darcy, citing migraines as the reason for his sudden absence, he left the note on her desk and made his way back towards the apparition point. This also was out of character, the whole reason for Harry to pop in around rush hour was that people were less likely to notice him in the general hubbub. Now on the other hand the Atrium was quite empty, so a speeding wizard who bore a striking resemblance to the Wizarding worlds youngest hero is bound to be noticed.
As they say; bad luck comes in threes, Rita Skeeter certainly counted as number two. "Mr. Potter! My what a lucky coincidence to run into you!" She simpered whilst expertly blocking Harry's attempts at moving towards the apparition point. Her sickeningly sweet voice was only adding to the headache already there. Trying to hold in the feeling of extreme nausea and trying to ignore all the colours suddenly popping up in his vision. Harry went for blunt honesty "The feeling is not mutual Skeeter, now move!" The last word said between clenched teeth as speaking really was not the best of idea's right now. Of course a seasoned shark, like Rita Skeeter, can smell blood from many a mile away and so she pounced on her weakened prey. "Why Mr. Potter is that how you treat an old friend? Surely you have at least some basic manners, or have you been taking lessons from that little know it all? I can assure you, your leverage is long gone, it would be in your best interests to keep me as a friend deary." Half way through her sentence the sickening sweetness bled away into rows and rows of extremely sharp teeth just waiting for the opportunity to take a bite out of her prey.
Half way through her sentence Harry's headache spiked. At the end of the sentence Rita Skeeter was no longer in Harry's way, something he quickly capitalized on as he moved toward the apparition point. And, without holding the three D's in his mind, did a half turn and was gone with a little pop. Had he been in the state of mind to look backwards, or rather upwards, Harry would've seen the quite amusing sight of a thoroughly flummoxed Rita Skeeter hanging from the ceiling by her long fake nails. Al the whilst people below could quite easily see that Rita Skeeter belonged to the commando's in at least one sense of the word. Quite a few young minds where scarred that day.
Meanwhile Harry was quite lucky to avoid splinching. Deliberation is, after all, an important part of apparition. One he didn't have the mindset for in his hurry to escape from the clutches of that...person. Looking around him Harry saw that he, thankfully, landed in an ally out of the sight of the main roads and probably not too far from home. However, as said before, bad things come in threes and number three was just about ready to make an entrance.