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italics: thoughts

Chapter 2:

It was the night of my eleventh birthday and I was dreaming of ruby-red eyes. Three years had passed since my encounter with the sovereign of the Wizarding World, but I never forgot that moment...or the ones that followed:

When He turned back to the rest of the crowd, I heard Sirius curse under his breath. "Shit, we're spotted!"

I looked around, panicked. Everything seemed normal and happy to me, but Padfoot knows better, normally. He's a Rebel, after all, and one of the most convinced and ruthless of them (or so say the people in my village). I'm just a little boy with a big responsibility on my shoulders...

"Harry, I told you never to look in his eyes, he's a legilimens, he can read your thoughts! He knows! We have to go...now! Here, come down."

Sirius bended down, lifted me from his shoulders and placed me on the ground. He took my hand and hurried away from the cheers, from the laughs, to pull us back to our normal life. I still didn't understand why we had to go. I wanted to look more at the king. I tried to pull against him, to turn back to the procession. I managed, for a second, to get a glimpse of the Dark Lord, but he was looking in the other direction. Disappointment churned in my belly.

"Padfoot! Stop pulling at me! It hurts! Why do we have to go?" I said, a bit desperate.

He stopped, turned to me, looked in my pleading eyes for a second, before sighing and crouching down at my level. He looked at me, his face serious.

"Harry, what were you thinking about when that monster looked at you?"

That he had beautiful eyes, I thought silently. And that he looked like a king... My eight years old mind knew that this answer would get me in trouble. Sirius never said anything positive about the Dark Lord and he always scolded anyone in the village (even old people!) when he heard them say something that sounded remotely like an approval of the current regime.

"Hem...that he...that I was happy to be here with you, the best godfather in the world?" I said, looking for something that would appease him.

"Harry, I told you, we're not here to make you happy! And... never mind, if you thought about me, he might have picked up who I was. We still have to go. And we're never coming back here, young man, that's for sure.

-But...

-No buts, come on, hurry up."

He took my hand again and started pulling me towards the end of the wards. Since I was still too young to have a wand, we had trained my magical awareness, so I could see a bit of shimmery light forming a dome around the crowd. Usually, I would tell that to my godfather and he would be proud of me, but somehow, I didn't think he would care at this moment. Maybe he would even scold me because he didn't want people to hear me say that. It wasn't a common skill, supposedly.

We arrived at the edge of the wards. Already, he was out of them and pulling me with him. I turned around one last time. Voldemort was standing on a stage, facing the crowd and smiling.

The blond man at his side was looking at us. From what I could see at this distance, he looked intrigued by something. He started to lean on his side to say something to the Dark Lord, his eyes never leaving me. I could see the leader of the Wizarding World beginning to turn toward me and begged inside of my head Please, please, just a last glance, but before his eyes met mine, I was pulled sharply out of the wards and felt like I was compressed in a tube.

When I became aware of my surroundings again, I was back at the camp.

I bolted awake, immediately put on my glasses and started looking around frantically. A noise had woken me up...ah, there! An owl was tapping on the glass of my window.

But, why is it here? Normally, all the owls pass through Moody or Sirius before their mail is distributed to the rest of the village. They do all sorts of tests and scans to make sure that it isn't trapped... Should I wake Siri up? Maybe, I'll just have a quick look at it. Nobody really knows I'm in the Rebel camp, so it can't be too dangerous. I'll be careful and look at it well before I open it.

I slid down from his bed, shivering when my feet connected with the cold ground. I slowly made my way to the small window. I fumbled a bit with the lock, and finally managed to open it. The owl swooped in my bedroom, perching itself on the frame of my bed. It was a beautiful snowy owl, its feathers nearly glowing in the pale moonlight filtering from my window. I approached my hand, wanting to caress the soft feathers, but the owl nipped one of my fingers. I let out a startled exclamation.

"Ow! What did you do that for?!", I said, accusingly.

The owl cocked its head and glared at me. It extended its leg to show the letter it had for me.

I bent down, looking at the owl warningly in case it decided to attack me again. I tried to examine the letter without touching it. All I could see is green ink...Green ink! Wasn't that!? Oh, yes! I'm eleven now! I hurriedly detached the parchment from the owl's leg and opened it.

I scanned the content of the letter.

Mister Harry Potter,

It is with great pleasure that...blabla...accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Blabla, answer needed before...blabla...

Professor Slughorn, Deputy Headmaster...

Professor Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Potions Master...

Snape? I think Sirius mentioned that name before...something about knowing he would be a Death Eater the minute he was sorted in Slytherin. But...if he's a Death Eater, will I be able to attend Hogwarts? No, probably not. Disappointed fill me. I would never see the school where my parents and Sirius went...No, no, there has to be a way!

I paused one moment, wondering why we had never even discussed it before. Sirius had often talked to me about his Hogwarts days with my parents, but he never once mentioned that, one day, it would be my turn to go. He probably thinks it would be too dangerous, with me being "the Chosen One" and all. If I tell him in the morning, he'll probably just burn the letter and strengthen the wards to exclude all letters for me or something. Maybe I should just reply now and say that I'll go? Then, I'll escape from the camp in September and climb in the Hogwarts Express without anybody noticing! And surely, if I'm already there, they won't send me back, right? Sirius' anxious face flashed in my mind. He would be panicked; I can't do that to him.

Was Sirius right when he told me that everybody would know my name? He said that, ten years ago on Halloween, when the Dark Lord came to kill my parents, he tried to kill me as well, but that the killing curse rebounded on him and hurt him instead. Siri also said that, during the next few months, everybody thought he was dead and they all celebrated my name. Apparently, I was nicknamed "the Boy-Who-Survived", or something like that.

But, why was I sent to the Dursley's then, if everybody loved me? Maybe, nobody thought to ask what was going to happen to me. Sirius told me that he would have wanted to take care of me then, but he was busy chasing down the one who betrayed my parents, and then, he got caught by his own friends (the Order) who thought HE had betrayed his them...and then, when this got cleared up, I was already in my cupboard and the Dark Lord magically returned to life, looking wayyyy younger and better than he ever did, and being stronger and better organised (and more evil and vicious, Sirius would add at that point), and seducing people to his side easily...and the war started back and everybody thought that my story was just a scam and that Dumbledore had lied to them and that I shouldn't be the "Boy-Who-Was-Innocent-And-Survived-A-Tragedy" anymore but the "Boy-Who-Fooled-Us-All".

So, apparently, they thought that I, a one year old baby, had deliberately arranged that my parents would get killed to be considered a martyr. More or less, anyway. Most of them blamed Dumbledore, actually, but it doesn't change the fact that everybody stopped cheering for me quite fast and started vaguely resenting me.

Sirius told me that I always have to wear something to hide my scar in public because of that and that I would get pretty bad reactions from the population if I told them who I was.

Anyway, long story short, Dumbledore convinced Sirius that it would be better for me to stay at my Aunt's house where I would be safe and not to burden him when he was busy fighting in a war. So, in my cupboard, I stayed, until the war was lost and Sirius came to pick me up and bring me to the newly formed Rebel camp.

At this point in time, I can't say whether I would have preferred to say at my Aunt's place or not. There, I wouldn't have to train all the time and live in fear of an attack. I would have lived these past eleven years in blissful ignorance. And maybe, I would have gone to Hogwarts. And maybe, if people had see that I didn't know about my history at all, they wouldn't be trying to kill me for being a Rebel or something.

Sometimes, I resent Sirius for his choices, even if I know that he tries his best to bring me up to honour my parents. But that's just the thing, though. Is he taking care of me just because of who my parents were, or of whom I'm destined to be? Does he really care for me, just Harry?

I sigh, looking down at the letter again, and looking back up at the owl. Do I reply yes without talking to him first? Rebel against the Rebels? I snicker a bit at the thought.

On one hand, I can't do that to the one person who cares about me. On the other, it will just worry everyone that a letter addressed to my name could reach me. Theoretically, that meant that anybody could sent a letter to a known rebel, like Sirius, and just follow it to our camp. They wouldn't be able to see it, because of the wards, but they could still attack the general location and do quite a bit of damage, or trap us, or bring some ward-breakers and make our protections collapse...

I paused to consider the owl before me. Maybe it was just a very clever owl. I looked at the nasty owl. Nahh, it was probably just a fluke. I shouldn't put everyone in a state of panic because of a Hogwarts letter. I'll just write a quick refusal tonight, and never mention it again. And we'll see what Sirius says in the morning.

I took a piece of parchment and pondered. How should I present this? I don't want them to know that I grew up among wizards...Oh, I know, I'll just make them think I'm still at the Dursleys'! With a bit of luck, since there's no address on the envelope, they'll believe me.

So...how would I phrase it if I had grown up with my Muggle family? Ah, got it!

I took a muggle pen (it's cheaper that a quill, so that's what we have here) and wrote at the back of the invitation:

Dear freaks,

I'm not interested. Never contact me again or I'll send the army at your doors.

Harry Dursley

I tied it on the owl and attempted to caress her feathers again, but its glare stopped me.

"Alright, alright, susceptible bird, go away then! Merlin, the nerve of that bird!"

The owl hooted at me and took flight out of my window and into the night. I slipped back under my covers and willed myself back to sleep. We will see what tomorrow will bring.

Tomorrow, or today, as it turned out, did not bring anything, except for worried looks from Sirius. He was nervous and jittery, looking at the sky every five minutes, anticipating the owl that was supposed to arrive for me.

And all day long, I waited with bated breath to see what he would tell me. I did enough accidental magic in front of him (as abused magical children tend to do) after he picked me up from my cupboard at the Dursleys' that he could never think I was a Squib. That wasn't the problem. That's not why he was worried. He was probably preparing himself for a difficult conversation with me where he would have to explain just why I couldn't go to Hogwarts as my late parents and the great majority of the British Wizarding community did.

I waited to see what he would do, what he would tell me if I didn't get a letter. I thought that I could use his reaction to this precise situation as a guideline for the rest of his personality.

In my head, the right way to react would be to sit down with me and explain to me that I should have had a letter to Hogwarts but that, probably because of the wards or something else, I couldn't receive it. He would then reassure me that I wouldn't need to go at that remote school, because he would personally make up for it by tutoring me, and by finding someone to complete his teaching in areas where he didn't feel competent enough. He would explain to me that Hogwarts would be dangerous, and that he was not willing to take any chances with the life of his precious godson, who, incidentally, is like a real son to him.

That would be a 10 out of 10 answer for me. That's the reassurance I desperately craved from him. Sirius is always so busy...Sure, he takes some time off his planning to have dinner with me sometimes, and, when I was younger, he'd read me a story before I went to bed from time to time, but he passes the majority of his time with Moody, and Kingsley, and his cousin Tonks who recently graduated from Hogwarts and is their undercover spy in the Auror department.

I don't really like Tonks because every time she comes back to the camp now, everybody cheers her like she's a hero, and Sirius will always clap on her shoulders or hug her and he'll just look so proud of her all the time. I know she's not a bad person and she was always nice to me, but I suppose I'm just a bit jealous of her. Partly because I'm not sure if Sirius loves me as much as he loves her.

If Sirius explains to me that I should have received a Hogwarts letter, it will be because he loves me. It will be my proof. I won't complain anymore. I just want that.

I'll stop thinking all those rebellious thoughts about how I would like to go to another Victory Day celebration to see the Dark Lord again, and about how I think it's a good idea to steal the Muggleborns away from their parents if they are abusive or if they don't want to make an oath of secret. After all, I know now that being shoved in a cupboard isn't a normal behaviour for guardians and, who knows what else would have happened if I'd stayed there? Other children don't deserve it either...

So yes, all this stuff I keep deep inside myself, it will all stop. I'll confess, and we will work together to stop me getting them from now on. I'll do it for Sirius, if he proves me that he loves me enough to not withhold information from me.

So I observed him, all day long, for my confirmation, as closely as I could without alerting him to what I was doing.

He smiled nervously at me 5 times after looking up to an empty sky. He ruffled my hair twice and he didn't let me leave his sight the whole day. Clearly, he knew something should have happened by now.

We were dining in the common area of the village (it's a camp, really, but I prefer to call it village, it makes it more homely, in my head), when he attempted to breach the subject. He gulped down his food, tore out little pieces of bread and dropped them in his soup, sighed, and turned to me.

"Harry", he said in a hesitating voice "you know you're eleven today, right?" He looked away from me.

"Yeah, I know, you didn't forget my birthday cake, right?" I asked, in a suspicious voice, careful not to show what I was thinking.

"No, no, don't worry, I have it. It's just, you know, every wizard... in the life of a wizard, certain things... hum." He stopped talking, swore a bit under his breath and looked like he debated with himself.

After a moment of silence, I asked: "So...what happens in the life of a wizard?"

He stayed silent. Then he took a big breath. This is it! Sirius does love me then! I was right!

"When a wizard is eleven...

-Yes?

-When a wizard becomes eleven, they go get their wands."

My stomach twisted painfully and my heart ached. He exhaled loudly and almost seemed to deflate in front of me. I carefully blanked my expression and forced it to turn into one of surprise and delight.

"A wand? So cool! Really? Where will we get it?

-We discussed it, Harry, and the other leaders of the camp agree with me. Your task is too important to carry out with a second-hand wand. You have to have your own. We'll go see Ollivander tomorrow."

I was surprised. Ollivander was in Diagon Alley, and we basically never went there. I accompanied Sirius once when he had something to pick up from a contact that couldn't leave the Wizarding World and we were both under disguises. People told me that Ollivander could always recognise and remember all of his clients and their wands, so it was a big risk to take. I guess it's one advantage to having a Task to carry out. People are willing to take risks for you. Or sacrifice themselves for you, like my parents did. No, really, I hated "having a Task", partly because I hate when people get hurt because of me, but I really wanted a wand to myself so I wouldn't protest this time.

"Great, Padfoot! When are we going tomorrow?

-Just after breakfast. I'll wake you up if you oversleep."

We finished our food in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. That night, when he thought I was asleep, he came to my room and sat on my bed. He touched my forehead, on top of my scar, and he whispered: "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. It's simpler like that."

When he left, I opened my eyes and stared at my darkened room without seeing it. I concluded that Sirius was sorry that he didn't love me. I also concluded that I could now harbour my traitorous thoughts without any remorse, that I would always keep them inside of me without telling him, because if I did say something, he might start to hate me instead of just not caring.

Next chapter is in Voldemort's POV. I think you'll like it. :)