Ficlet: To Not Look Back

It wasn't very often that Harry knew the entire story of what was going on. Ever since he had first read the envelope that read 'Harry Potter, Cupboard Under the Stairs,' he'd had the feeling that he may never know the whole story. Now he did, and he most certainly wished he didn't. Privet Drive hadn't exactly been home, but then again, nothing really hadn't been since Sirius had offered one. Still, it was better than here, even if nothing could be. Better than this, and knowing the truth or at least what passed for it.

Remus had sat down next him, eventually, even after the scowls Harry had worn on his face to discourage any adult from attempting to speak to him. Harry merely tolerated his presence, knowing that he wouldn't say anything until Harry wished him to. He supposed that might be a good thing in some ways.

Dumbledore started the meeting now that everyone had safely arrived back at 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry inwardly scoffed. Safe, he says. Safe is not when three people are dead, no matter that I often wished they were. I will not be taking the blame for this.

It most certainly had not been his fault that a Death Eater had followed Vernon home to discover where Harry lived in the summers. And it hadn't been his fault, either, when the bastard lord himself showed up on Privet Drive to off Harry once and for all.

Harry had held his own when he discovered what was going on, frankly caring less about being expelled from school when he'd just seen three flashes of awful green light fell the only relatives he had left. He had just taunted Voldemort about being a sorry-arsed loser when Dumbledore and the rest of the Order rode in like the cavalry they thought they were.

Well, they weren't. Harry just knew that they were the clean up crew. And he was the cavalry, saving their pathetic hides.

Harry ignored Dumbledore's blathering, looking around the faces gathered in the dark room. Remus would follow him, he knew, but he had to find others to make it work. The former Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts would follow Harry blindly because he was the last link to the past, even if he did hold some form of affection for Harry. Their relationship was like fourth cousins who only met a few times each year for the important occasions. He didn't know, exactly, having never met any fourth cousins at occasions where he'd never been invited.

Of the Weasleys, only Bill returned his look, Molly and Arthur deferring to Dumbledore. Charlie wasn't here, and they didn't think Fred and George weren't old enough to join. So, there were possibly four more. He wasn't about to ask Ron or Hermione or any of the DA. They were too young to understand what was going on. Out of them all, Ginny was a possibility. Only she had seen horrors that the others could only see in their worst nightmares. Harry dreamed them nightly.

Tonks also returned his stare, only after a tear dripped from the side of a violent, violet-colored eye. She alone, out of the numerous members of the Order, had offered any empathy about Harry's loss. She had lost a cousin in a family where being good was an oddity, and being burned out of the family tapestry was the ultimate gift. Harry had welcomed that into himself to horde with all the other memories he had of Sirius, to look through at a later date when he could let himself grieve.

Now was not the time for grieving, though. Now was the time to strive towards a future where Harry could be in peace. Where he could go forth and not have to listen to stupid platitudes and waffling public adoration/hate. And for that to happen, he had to get Snape.

Harry looked at the sullen potions master across the room from him, willing him to look in his direction. Snape would be the one to know if all of Harry's plans were worthless, or if they would be exactly what they needed to get rid of the bastard who had taken everything Harry had ever cared for and warped. When finally he did, Harry put everything he had ever been in his stare.

Now is not the time to look back, Snape, Harry thought as he held the man's gaze. Now is the time that action proves what is worth saving. Necessity is the drive behind our strength. This is the time for being who we are, without having to paint a pretty picture for the rest of the world, and that is all that we can hope for.