2
Woe
Paying for What You Are
There was something about Harry Potter that she absolutely loathed. When she was abandoned quite suddenly and sent to live with Remus, being the reason it happened, she had been much happier. The man was nice, though he held many secrets about some secret organization called the Order. He took care of her, taught her all the little quirks about her new condition and warned her so many times that because of this new condition she either had to keep it completely hidden or become docile. A wild girl who happened to be a werewolf was a dead girl.
Grimmauld Place left her in a state of ennui. Then she met Ron and Hermione. Ron was such a stately, perfectly boyishly normal wizard, and Hermione was affectionate, a bit of a tattletale, but was intelligent. The days alone there while Remus was away, working for the Order, were to be deadened but for them. Both helped her keep up her spirits and feel normal.
However, we must track back to her problem with Harry. He was her bane, someone that caused Ron and Hermione much grief. He had sent no letters, and they, worried that Harry's way of grieving might include seclusion, had sent none in response. How were they to know that he had needed their warm words and happenings to bring the life back into his stressed days? Of course they felt dejected. They had fought with him in the Department of Mysteries, and they had been there when Sirius had died. They knew him as well. Harry didn't seem to care about that though. The other reason she hated Harry whom she had never met was because of Remus. Remus had known this enigma that was Sirius longer than Harry, and Harry, selfish as he was, hadn't thought that someone could be hurt more than he was. If only the girl knew how little she knew of Harry, and even more, how wrong she was. Her name was Linda, recently bitten by a werewolf. After her parents rejected her, Remus had taken her in, and good thing too, because the Ministry was on there way to kill her.
Now would be the first time she would see Harry. Her first impression was that he was quite thin and ragged, eyes dark green, posture lacking authority or confidence of any kind. There was only a raw determination in him. The muggle with him had been quite the looker, and left her wondering how two so closely related could look so different. Now that Dumbledore had left, she got to examine him more clearly. She hated him, everything about him. She ran away to her room before he could see her. She had had more than enough of Harry today.
Hermione looked worriedly at Harry, talking to him in a soft voice coated with velvet as if any other tone would have cracked him like a fine piece of china.
"Harry, we haven't contacted each other much this summer,"
"I didn't have a lot of time to write you," Harry said bitterly. He was tired and stressed, which caused him to have quite a short temper. Hermione was confused by his reaction. "How is she to know? She doesn't know all I had to do or what happened, she only thinks that I'm having problems with Sirius'…demise," Harry thought frantically, trying to calm his wave of rage and discontent.
"Well, anyway, you're here now and that's all that matters, right mate? I guess this time though," he shot a look at the Dursleys, "You couldn't escape them." Dudley noticed this indiscreet glance towards his family and decided now was a good time to figure out what was going on.
"Harry, why are we here?" Dudley asked, interrupting the fragile make of a conversation.
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Well, Big D," his eyes were full of laughter, "This is the most glorious house of Black. It was my godfather's home," a lump developed in Harry's throat.
"You mean the convict?" Mr. Dursley asked in a bored tone, seeming to be content about bad-mouthing the man since he was dead. Harry ignored him.
"Some magic was used on my house, it's called wards, that dealt with Petunia being my blood relative. Um, I don't know the specifics but because of what happened they have been…contaminated. You'll have to stay here now. Hermione, is Kreacher still here?" She shook her head yes but then said, "Dobby came here as well when he realized that you were coming to live here,"
"Anything for Mr. Harry Potter sir, anything!" Ron imitated Dobby's voice.
"Ron!" Hermione said, clearly exasperated, before continuing, "He's only working over here for the summer. Dumbledore is still paying him, because he says that he is benefiting the Order." Harry nodded.
"Dobby!" he yelled. In a matter of seconds Dobby appeared before him, looking slightly rumpled but overflowing with joy. His large eyes were alight with a passionate glow.
"Harry Potter sir! You is here, back so early! Dobby is pleased to see you, oh yes he is! What is Harry Potter sir needing, then?" Dudley looked absolutely horrified. Mr. Dursley, on the other hand, seemed downright mortified.
"What," Mr. Dursley said, choking on his words, "In the name of God is that?" Dobby looked slightly offended.
"Dobby is a House Elf, sir,"
"Dobby," Harry was having trouble speaking in a calm voice, "These are my relatives. He," he gestured to Mr. Dursley, "Is my uncle, and the other one is my cousin. My aunt is here as well," he gestured to Petunia who was still contentedly chatting with Mrs. Weasley, looking much happier than she had ever been since coming home from the grocery store that fateful day.
"Ahh… Dobby sees sir. You wants me to tour them? You wants me to give them in-tro-duc-tion to the Wizarding world?"
"Right Dobby, please give my uncle and cousin that,"
"Dobby can do that for Harry Potter sir!" Dobby said, beaming, his ears scrunching up as he walked over to Dudley.
"Please follow me sirs," he said. Dudley looked horrified but followed, and his father took his lead.
"We'll see you soon, Duds!" Harry said, waving at them, finally able to be rid of the people he had spent much of his summer with. That reminded him, what was today? Harry, to his horror, realized that he had missed his birthday. No presents from anyone and Snape had been the only one to send him letters. Harry was filled with dread. There was a logical explanation to this, there had to be!
"Ron and Hermione, why haven't I gotten any letters from you two?"
"Not allowed to, mate. After our Ministry escapade, Snape told the order that we obviously couldn't be discreet in our actions which meant they couldn't trust our letters' discretion as well. They actually listened to the git!" Harry smiled in relief. His friends still cared about him, and that was all that mattered.
"Where's Lupin?" Harry asked trying to hide his shame. Instead of being angry at Lupin, he started feeling more inferior to him. It was Harry's fault that Sirius was dead, and he probably deserved to be ignored by Lupin. It had been happening a lot lately. He just couldn't find enough passion in himself to make anger. He was just so tired, and he felt old and young at the same time, naked to the world and scarred by time. Harry realized he had been zoning out. Hermione was biting her lip, eyes gray with worry.
"He didn't tell you?" Hermione asked softly.
"Tell me what?"
"I guess I shouldn't tell you Harry. I mean, I really want to, but it's not really my secret to tell. It's like Malfoy asking the specifics of what happened in the TriWizard Tournament with Cedric and me telling him. You understand, don't you?"
Hermione watched his reaction closely. Instead of raging and saying how the situations were totally different because Lupin was important to him, he just closed his eyes. When he opened them, she shivered. Those green orbs were glowing with an unholy light. He smiled, but the happiness in his eyes was ersatz. This was bad. He was keeping everything inside of him. "Sometimes it is good to have a rage or two," thought Hermione but she didn't know that Harry couldn't afford to rage right now. Hermione decided to start a new conversation,
"Why have the wards been contaminated?" She was going to get this out of him no matter what.
"Not my secret to tell," he said, his smile widening. Sometimes Harry really frustrated her!
"Fine," she sniffed.
"Hermione, is not like I'm just saying that because you said that!" Harry said smartly. What was her problem? Oh the trouble with Hermione. Sometimes she really was apathetic.
"Oh, Harry! Why would I think that?" Her tone was hinted with sarcasm.
"Please be quiet!" Harry really wanted to sleep and he didn't have time for spirited quarrels. He was sure that finding out about the wards wasn't the issue here, it was her angry with him.
"Harry, why are you acting so strange?"
"Am I acting strange?"
"Yes! All of a sudden your tough guy with no feelings who doesn't care that his friends couldn't write to him, who doesn't care that someone important to you is hiding a secret from you but not your friends, and who doesn't care that his friends have been worrying about him all summer! You look like you've died and went to Hell, Harry! Have you looked in the mirror lately?"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted, trying to placate her.
"Don't you 'Hermione' me! I want to know what's wrong!"
"I'm just tired! Can you leave it at that?"
"No, Harry, I can't! Ron and I care about you!"
"If you cared about me, you'd be leaving me alone right now!"
"Oh, Harry, you idiot!" She slapped him, burst into tears and ran out the room.
Harry stood where she left him. Hermione and he never really fought with each other or got into a lot of arguments. This was odd. Was he supposed to be feeling sad? Or was he supposed to feel spiteful? He didn't know what to feel. He just had this aching loneliness inside of him. If only he could tell her what happened to his aunt! She might've been able to understand then. No, it was better this way. His heart strung an odd cord. Hermione obviously didn't want to be around him anymore. She had slapped him, Hermione, defender of the House Elves and the weak, had slapped him. He looked at his reflection on the glass pane above the fireplace.
A glaring pink mark was on his face, and five tiny cuts from her nails. Harry went to the bathroom, cleaning them, and put tiny Band-Aids on them. Ugly, he was so ugly with those thick glasses and pale skin, a frowning mouth and a disgusting unruly shock of black hair. Harry took off his glasses and then put them back on. The person in the mirror was him, whether he liked it or not. He quickly went up to Ron and his room to find a angry Ron standing up, waiting for him.
"What did you do to her? I've never seen her more hysterical. She's crying, Harry, crying! You better have a good explanation for this!"
"I," Harry's mouth was dry, "She got angry at me and didn't like how I reacted so,"
Ron pushed him, "Yeah right, Harry, I don't know what game you're playing." He pushed him again. "Now go apologize to her, okay?" "Fine."
Of course Ron would take Hermione's side because of his crush on her. Harry stood up and ran to the bathroom. He felt sick, and he keeled over the toilet, dizzy, holding the rim of the toilet as to have something be stable in his life. He passed out.
Harry was awake in some state of mind. He started to think about the Department of Mysteries. That had been his fault. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. He had endangered many of his friends' lives without a reason. "Well, I thought Sirius was there!" Harry frantically tried to think, "It wasn't my fault!" He knew it was his fault that Sirius had died. Hermione had been right about his "saving people thing" and how Voldemort knew what type of person he was. Instead of saving Sirius, he had nearly gotten his friends killed and Sirius died trying to protect him. He was a burden, an idiot child, and he had a feeling he'd be paying for that escapade for the rest of his life.
The worst part about it was that Hermione had it all figured out, but he was so sure that he had been right at the time that he had yelled at her and told her she was wrong. He had fallen for the trap, hook, line, and sinker. Even Ron had thought it was unreasonable at first. Everybody but him seemed to have realized something wasn't right about the situation. Why? He was smarter than Ron, why hadn't he realized? An aching pit became known in his stomach. It was because of what he was.
When he was little, he had no friends. When gaining them and a mix-matched family he had been furiously protective. Why, it was because they were all he had, his whole purpose of life had been nothing until he met them. This upbringing would have been his end if Sirius hadn't come to save him. He deserved this pain, the consequences for what he did. If Sirius hadn't died, nothing might have gotten through to him. Yet, Sirius didn't deserve it. He really hated himself right now.
Also, what about Voldemort? What if Voldemort sent him images of a man torturing innocent children and people over and over again. If he met that man, would Harry kill him only to find out what a Good Samaritan he was? A shiver ran down Harry's spine. Voldemort had access to his mind because of Harry's foolish pride. Harry no longer was proud, he couldn't afford to be. It wasn't fair! Who said life would be fair? He had made his own grave. If he had been sorted into Slytherin, things would've been easier. "The Sorting Hat knew I would have to be cunning and learn to think with a clear mind when in danger! The Sorting Hat knew but listened to the ignorant rants of child!" Harry thought, horrified. Dumbledore's influence dealt a lot with this. Dumbledore had made sure he had grown up ignorant. Unfortunately, Harry was just smart enough and clueless enough to make this situation fatal. Harry was reaping the bitter fruit.
He could hardly look at Hermione. He didn't deserve friends who were so loyal as to do something they obviously didn't want to do for him. They had suffered because he had made them do what he wanted. He was selfish and arrogant, but not in the same way as his father was. He was selfish and arrogant because of the Wizarding World. He valued his importance too much, but he didn't know! Then all the walls tumbled down and he really disliked himself.
Why did Voldemort hate him? Why did he want to cause him so much pain as to contaminate his mind with foreign ideas? He was perfect molding clay for that was how he was brought up and had a lot of power he didn't know how to use. In short, he was dangerous.
Maybe if he had really tried hard in class and hadn't tried to ignore the upcoming problem of Voldemort things would be different. However he had already made his bed and now he must sleep in it. It was too late to change the past. He was stuck with the bitter pieces of worlds he had wanted but when together they made quite a nightmare. He felt so alone. The worst thing about it was that the only person who could understand him was a madman murderer.
In this state of mind, he was naked. He pulled his knees to his chest, splaying his arms around them. There was nothing to hold, only skin and cold. So much emptiness existed in this plane. Harry sighed. He knew he had to leave soon. He could avoid reality but not his memories. Sirius' death would haunt him for eternity if he didn't leave.
Harry woke up. He was still in the bathroom and he noticed (to his disgust) that some drool was slipping out of his mouth to fall in the toilet. Harry recoiled and wiped off his mouth. Maybe he could stay in this bathroom just a little bit longer…
Meanwhile, Petunia Dursley was in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley. Ron came down for a snack.
"What is it like?"
"What do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked confused.
"What is it like to have such normal, healthy children?"
"Well…"
"Harry has always been odd and has a problem that Lily did all the way to her death. He has problems with telling others how he feels. He muddles it up and withdraws, just like she did. Even Dudley tends to be part of the darker side of life. He has a gang and I have a feeling that it gets worse than that. They are so screwed up! They have an odd relationship, but they rely on each other though they probably won't admit it. Dudley will push Harry around, but I've noticed he always makes sure not to really hurt him. Harry shoots glares at him all the time and trips him up a lot. However, when they thought no one was looking, I've seen them just sit in the kitchen together not bothering each other. It gets worse from there. Sometimes I feel it's my fault that they both have so many problems."
"Petunia, it isn't your fault. You just have to get a rein on your family, make sure they know whose boss, including your husband."
"Your boy right there, what's his name?"
"My name is Ron." Ron interrupted.
"Ron?" Petunia smiled.
"Yeah," Ron said while fishing around for a snack.
"Ron! What do you think you are doing! She is Harry's aunt so she's part of your family! Be nice to her."
"Sure, uh, mom? Where did the last of those chocolate frogs from Bill go?"
"I think Ginny ate them." Ron frowned, bounding up the stairs yelling,
"Ginny!"
Petunia's smile widened. Ron was important to her because she needed the normalcy. She needed someone to look at and think, "My Dudley could be like that."
Little did she know that Dudley had fallen quite far and Harry was going to be the only one who could help him.
Harry still hadn't spoken with Hermione. He was downstairs now, in front of Mrs. Black's portrait. She had stopped screaming at him a few minutes ago and since she was always screaming about something no one took it as odd that she had started out of nowhere ago. She was watching him with an odd expression on her face. He, on the other hand, was concentrating on drawing something. A silhouette of a lone figure on the beach with the sun a terrible black was the image before him. He was making different shades of gray for the sky, all of them dark. It wasn't great, but Harry needed something to distract his mind. He was humming.
"What are you humming?" Mrs. Black said.
"Oh, something that's been in my head for awhile." She narrowed her eyes.
"That is a song that he would always hum." Harry stopped drawing.
"Who?"
"The Dark Lord, of course. He always said it reminded him of a fire chasing behind him and a large lake that sucks you into it. He said that he was going to die either way so he chose the lake. He always said that people were terrible things until awhile ago. He told Kreacher," she whispered, "That someone was willing to burn for him so he could live! Of course we never understood what he was talking about, but obviously you know. I've never heard anyone else but him hum that song."
Harry closed his eyes. He was either just like his father or just like Voldemort. Now about that fire, it reminded him vaguely of a dream. He couldn't recall what happened completely, as you only catch glimpses of dreams you had when something triggers your memory, but he didn't like where this was going. A large group of witches and wizards came out of a room. It was the Order! He didn't know if he could stand to see them. He grabbed his stuff and was already up when she said.
"You can't leave! You must tell me what it means! Tell me!" Harry paused. Unfortunately, some Order members had seen him.
"Harry?" one of them asked shocked.
"TELL ME! WHY DOES SUCH FILTH LIKE YOU KNOW WHEN THE FAITHFUL DON'T! TELL ME!"
She was seething, fists shaking. Some of the members started to watch; they had never seen her so angry.
"YOU LYING FILTH! HOW DO YOU KNOW? WHAT MAKES YOU SO SPECIAL?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do. You can tell me. At least tell me why you're so important to him." Harry was revolted. He wasn't important to Voldemort. Yes, Voldemort had an obsession with making him miserable and screwing with his mind, but Harry was not important to him!
Mrs. Black just realized there was a crowd. She smirked and yelled.
"Why are you so important to the Dark Lord? Why do you know things about him that even his most loyal don't! Tell me!" Harry was angry. This portrait knew he would look bad if she said that. It would raise so many questions. Harry continued to walk away as she screamed, ignoring all the suspicious glances. Then he stopped.
"Do you know the words to that song?"
"Of course not! Why do you think I'm asking you this then?"
"The first lines, I remembered it.
Nor perfectionist raised thy hand and spoke
As leaves fell into hands and died
The sweetest symphony of the heart
Lost its chords long ago." Harry smiled. It seemed so normal to know these words. Mrs. Black however was awed.
"Who are you? What are you to him? That song…" She trailed off, pale and trembling. Harry was confused but continued to walk away.
"Harry!" The voice was familiar. Remus Lupin appeared in his shabby glory. Harry cursed. He had to deal with Lupin now! This day just kept getting worse! Lupin led him into an empty room, using a few charms to make sure no one could listen in.
"Harry, I have something to tell you. The reason I was no longer able to write you at the time is because of Linda." Harry was taken aback by all the affection Lupin used in the name. "She's my cub."
"You bit someone?" Harry said, not thinking straight.
"No, she was bitten recently and I have taken her into my custody after her parents abandoned her. It was my fault anyway; I forgot to deliver some Wolfsbane to the werewolf that bit her."
"What does that have to do with you not writing to me?" Remus sighed, looking wearier than ever.
"Harry, she's my cub. She felt that our relationship interfered with her being my cub, probably because she's about your age. You know werewolves are protective of there cubs." Harry shivered.
"Linda? She's jealous? Is she a twit, then?" All reason seemed to have left Remus. He pushed Harry against the wall and was growling.
"Harry," Why was Lupin talking to him in such a way? Was this what happened when love was not enough? "Don't you ever," he tightened his grip as he snarled, "Talk about my cub like that!" He released Harry and left the room after taking the spells off.
Harry felt his lips curl up bitterly. "I've been slapped by Hermione, pushed around by Ron and hurt by Lupin all in the same day. Have I really been sp cruel? Am I missing something? I deserve this then, don't I? Then why do I want to cry? Lupin is protective of his cub, that's normal. I just have to remember that he's irrational when it comes to her. I mean, I'm quite alright, perfectly fine. I'm alright, really."
When Mr. Dursley came back from his tour, his wife hesitantly slipped her slender fingers into his hand. She smiled. Mr. Dursley was content. Something about this place had helped her, and he really did love his wife, despite his tough guy exterior. Harry had fallen asleep on the cold stone of Grimmauld Place. Something about this place was breaking him. Yet, he was convinced he deserved it. At least that's what he kept telling himself. He was finally paying for what he had done, reaping the bitter fruit.
Author's Notes: Food for thought: What if House Elves were all (At an average) about 6ft. tall? How do you think the Wizarding World would be affected? Please review,
-Verdesilath
