HP Year 5: Let the War Begin
Chapter 3
The next morning, Harry awoke feeling refreshed; all signs of tiredness from the day before were gone, leaving him feeling oddly energetic.
"It was probably just too much at once," Harry told himself, a little uncertainly, as he peeled off his pyjamas and wriggled into his clothes.
"What was too much?" Sally asked somewhat sleepily, having woken up at the sound of Harry's voice.
"A vision then… and then feeling that object. Blimey, that's hard to get used to. Not the ability – I got used to that ages ago – but the feeling. It's horrible... painful, and that's saying something; I'm certainly no stranger to pain, not after my childhood…" Harry trailed off with a sigh.
"Perhaps it just needs some getting used to?" Sally suggested, blinking at him.
"Maybe," said Harry noncommittally. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see, really. You coming?" he asked, holding out his wrist for Sally to wrap around.
"Of course," Sally said, sounding almost insulted that he even had to ask.
When Harry arrived at the kitchen, it was all he could do to keep himself from letting out a loud (amused) gasp at the sight that greeted him.
"Sirius?" Harry asked weakly, sauntering into the kitchen, dropping into a chair and holding a hand to his head in a very dramatic fashion. "Did I hit my head yesterday or something?"
"Ha ha, very funny," Sirius replied dryly, setting his cup of what looked to be extremely strong coffee down on the table.
"Can't blame a guy for asking," Harry shrugged, dropping the act and leaning over to nick Sirius' coffee, taking a grateful sip from it. "It's eight-thirty in the morning, and you're… well, awake. Oh – and Remus isn't, which is almost weirder."
"Don't steal my coffee," Sirius scowled, taking the mug back with a pout worthy of a five year old. "I need it far more than you do."
"Yeah, I can tell," Harry grinned, ducking as Sirius tried to swat him on the head. "Seriously, though. Why has the world turned upside-down?"
"Remus and Kingsley are away helping Dumbledore with something," Sirius admitted after a moment.
"Something that you're not allowed to tell me about," Harry voiced the unsaid words. "Typical."
"You know I don't like keeping things from you, Harry," Sirius said, sounding vaguely guilty.
"I do, Sirius, honestly," Harry reassured him. "I didn't mean that in a bad way… I'm not like Ron. I don't want to hound you for information…" Harry had to purposely keep himself from shuddering as childhood memories sprung to mind. Yeah, growing up with the Dursleys can do that to you. The Dursleys had been very firm in the fact that Harry was not to ask questions, was not to eavesdrop, was not to read the newspaper… he had grown up, having the belief that attempting to find information was very, very bad. He'd lost that fear of information a bit at Hogwarts, though. He'd had to, what with the Philosophers Stone and everything else that had happened. Not wanting to suddenly become depressed, Harry pushed the thoughts out of his mind and forced himself to continue. "I think, for now, I know enough to last me a lifetime… it's like everyone keeps saying, isn't it? 'I'm too young'. Something about teenage hormones being unpredictable, or something. I can't remember the exact wording."
"Err," Sirius blinked, looking rather, for lack of a better word, amazed, at Harry's level of understanding.
"Not as dim as you like to make out, am I?" Harry grinned. "Anyway, that explains Moony not being here. It doesn't explain why you're up so early."
"No, it doesn't," Sirius agreed, smiling slightly.
"Git."
"Prat."
"Good-for-nothing flea-carrier."
"I don't have fleas!" Sirius protested with a yelp.
"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "Is it nits, then? There's something in that messy hair of yours."
"You're as bad as your father was," Sirius shook his head, letting out a disappointed sigh.
"Good; I'd rather take after him than Vernon." Sirius stiffened slightly as he heard Vernon Dursley's name, but otherwise (thankfully) gave no reaction.
"So," Harry said, feeling a little self-conscious and wanting to change the subject, "any idea when Remus will be back?"
"Not until tonight, I reckon," Sirius said after a moment, apparently deciding to forget about Harry's previous comment.
"Okay…" said Harry slowly. "There goes training, then." Remus had been going to train him today, seeing as Tonks was still at St. Mungo's. He paused for a moment, before his face brightened. "We could start Apparition lessons!"
.
And so, after breakfast, the two found themselves in the training room with Harry standing in front of a wooden hoop that strongly reminded him of Muggle hula-hoops.
"And you're sure this is the way to do it?" Harry asked, eyeing the hoop uncertainly.
"It's the way we were taught at school," Sirius shrugged. "We got a big lecture – half of it spent emphasizing the importance of the bloody 'three Ds' – then were told to Apparate into the hoop."
"Sounds simple," Harry remarked, though he knew it was anything but.
"That's what I thought," Sirius snorted. "At least I wasn't the first to splinch myself, though."
"You splinched yourself?" Harry asked, wincing as he remembered Ron's comment from last year. Percy had learned to Apparate, and Ron had been complaining. Being the deprived-of-magical-knowledge boy that he was, Harry had asked exactly what Apparition was and had been given, quite obviously, a lecture from Hermione… accompanied, of course, by some gruesome tales of splinching told by Ron.
"I left an arm and an eyebrow behind," Sirius grinned. A moment later, his grin widened as he added, "Severus left his nose behind."
Even though Harry liked Severus (his distant cousin who, to keep things simple, he preferred to call 'Uncle Severus') and despised Sirius' treatment of the Hogwarts Potion's Master, the raven-haired teen couldn't help but laugh at the image inside his head of Snape standing inside a hoop with his large, hooked nose floating in midair beside him.
"Okay," Harry said finally, having got his laughter under control. It was more than could be said for Sirius, who still kept letting out periodic snorts.
"Destination, Determination and Deliberation. Odd set of words, but got it…." Harry trailed off nervously now as he looked at his hoop. "I just… concentrate, and spin on the spot?"
"Yup," Sirius nodded enthusiastically. "Look," he waved his wand in the air and (non-verbally) conjured a second hoop, placing it nearly three meters in front of him. He gave Harry a last encouraging glance before turning on the spot, reappearing in the hoop with a proud, 'Ta-da!'
Harry grinned at his godfather before turning his gaze to the hoop in front of him. "Okay…" Harry licked his lips, and tried to concentrate on the hoop; on only the hoop. He focused on the slightly-dusty floor inside it, the slight cracks he could see in the wood. Perhaps he was concentrating too hard, but he wanted to be sure… trying as hard as possible to keep the image of the dusty floor in his head, Harry closed his eyes and spun on the spot…
...and promptly fell over, landing flat on his bum. Sirius was over barely a moment later, pulling Harry to his feet and ruffling his hair with a sympathetic grin.
"I forgot to mention that, I think. You'll probably fall over quite a bit before you manage."
"I think I figured that part out myself, thanks," Harry replied sarcastically, but he was grinning. Pulling away from Sirius, he retook his position in front of the hoop, cocking his head to the side slightly (a habit he had started to pick up, presumably from Luna) as he regarded it. After being certain he had the image in his mind, Harry once again span around on the spot. Whilst he managed to refrain from falling this time, he also didn't move any closer to the hoop – quite the opposite; although he'd avoided falling, he had stumbled backwards a little. Running his hand through his hair in irritation and making it stick up at even odder angles than usual, Harry glared at the space inside the hoop, trying to will himself there. He imagined a small tube connecting him to that space, and pulling him through it. That was what it had felt like when Sirius had side-along Apparated him, at least. A loud crack suddenly filled his ears and Harry blinked, realizing he'd moved. His anger instantly disappeared, to be replaced by an intense pain. Biting down on his lip hard, so as not to cry out (though it was extremely hard; the pain was almost as bad as the Cruciatus), Harry somehow twisted his head around to see his leg and an eyebrow both where he had been standing only a second before. He'd barely seen them, though, when a cloud of purple smoke invaded his vision and he felt the pain disappear. As the odd, purple smoke cleared, Harry saw Sirius standing with his wand pointing at Harry, his brows furrowed.
"You okay?" Sirius asked, coming over to stand by Harry with a concerned expression.
"Yeah," Harry said shakily. "Er… maybe I'll take a break, though."
"Good idea," Sirius quickly agreed, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder to steer him out the room.
.
The two settled themselves in the living-room, where Harry curled up on the sofa and leaned his head against Sirius' shoulder.
"You sure you're okay?" Sirius asked after a moment. "I remember when I splinched my arm before… it hurt like hell, I swear."
"I know you swear," Harry couldn't resist teasing a little before he went back to the situation at hand. "I've… felt worse," Harry said, trying to keep his voice even. "I'm okay. Just… shaken up, I guess. We both knew this could happen, though," he finished with a shrug. "If it didn't happen now, it would probably happen in a couple of years when I learned at school."
"Doesn't stop me being concerned," Sirius said, before his face suddenly broke into a grin. "Oh, if only my younger self could see me now. A fussy parental figure… he'd – I'd – be scarred for life."
"You're not fussy," Harry defended him, smiling slightly. "Fussy is like Mrs Weasley. You're one of those 'cool parents', I think."
"Aw, thanks, Harry," Sirius grinned, ruffling Harry's hair.
"Sirius!" Harry whined. "I'm not a dog. I, unlike you, don't enjoy having my hair attacked all the time."
"And you think I do? All those people constantly petting me, or trying to tickle me?"
"Of course you do," Harry said, as though he thought anyone who thought Sirius didn't enjoy it was insane. "It's you we're talking about, isn't it?"
"Why are you always so mean to me?" Sirius asked sadly, giving Harry a puppy-dog look.
"Why are you always so mean to me?" Harry shot back, grinning.
"I'm not mean," Sirius protested. "I'm funny."
"No, you're a prat."
"Git."
"Twit."
"I know you are, but what am I?" Sirius asked, looking full of pride at his comeback.
"So original, Sirius," Harry rolled his eyes. "That joke's almost as old as you are."
"I'm not - get back here!" Sirius yelled as Harry jumped up, avoiding his godfather's hands and escaping the room, laughing.
.
It was, as Sirius had said, well into the night before Remus and Kingsley both Apparated into the kitchen, each of them looking thoroughly exhausted.
"S'pose I'll go now," Harry said after a moment, moving away from his position by the kitchen worktops and leaving his now empty mug beside the sink.
"Don't go because of us, Harry," Kingsley quickly protested, shaking his head.
"It's fine," Harry told him with a smile. "You'll probably want to talk about… well, whatever you just did." Seeing that Kingsley – and Remus, for that matter – still wasn't assured, he added, "Besides, there was a new spell I wanted to practice."
That done, Harry left the kitchen, but rather than head to the training room he headed towards the library.
"Hullo, Kreacher," Harry greeted as he entered and found Kreacher sulking away in the corner.
"Mas – Harry," Kreacher bowed slightly. "Would Harry Potter sir like anything, sir?"
"No," Harry shook his head, pulling a random book out and dropping onto one of the more comfortable seats in the room (the one that Sirius, being the best at Transfiguration, had transfigured into a comfortable arm-chair. It looked strange in the middle of the library, but it did its job of giving readers a comfortable place to sit).
"I'm just keeping out of everyone's way…" Harry peered at Kreacher curiously as he sat the book down in his lap. "Where've you been hiding, anyway?" he asked the elf. "I've hardly seen you so far all summer."
"Kreacher has been staying out of everybody's way," Kreacher told him. "And Kreacher has been tidying the house. Master wants it clean for the Order."
"Oh," said Harry lamely. "Er – if you need… err, help, just let me know, okay? And… you don't need to stay out of my way… I like talking to you," Harry finished, feeling a little guilty. Poor Kreacher, he must get so lonely.
"As Harry Potter wishes, sir," Kreacher said, though Harry could tell from the house-elf's face that Kreacher certainly wasn't going to ask for 'Young Master Harry's' help in cleaning up Grimmauld Place. Kreacher bowed before disappearing with a small 'pop!'
"House-elves are odd creatures," a small voice said from down around Harry's feet.
"Yeah, they are," Harry agreed, bending over slightly to pick up Sally. "You were quiet; I didn't even realize you were here."
"I have been sleeping," Sally explained. "Your voices awoke me. I felt it would be rude to disrupt you."
"Oh," Harry paused, biting his lip sheepishly. "Sorry. Well, it should be quiet now… I'm just going to read then I'll go to bed, I suppose. Are you coming with me tomorrow? To Neville's?"
"Sally will stay here," the little snake said, shaking her head.
"Okay," Harry nodded, relaxing back against the chair and opening his book.
At around midnight, Harry stood with Sally who was asleep and wrapped around his wrist, and put his book back before heading to the door, planning to go to bed. However, he had barely stepped out the room when an abrupt, blinding pain in his scar caused him to whimper slightly and fall to his knees. Anger flooded through his body, alongside his confusion, and he realized he was feeling Voldemort's feelings. He couldn't seem to get a clear picture of where Voldemort was, but rather he caught small snippets of conversation. "You failed… blasted old man… that Werewolf and the Aurors… you'll pay for… be more careful, next time… blundering idiots…"
Sally hissing at him brought Harry back, and he shakily pushed himself up from the floor into a sitting position, wincing as pain flashed through his scar again.
"Is master alright?" Sally asked, sounding concerned.
"Y-yeah… I… yeah, I think so," Harry stuttered out. "He didn't use Crucio, at least… that counts for something, right?"
"Harry?" a soft voice asked, and Harry looked up to see Remus slowly approaching him. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, kneeling down in front of him to see his face. "Kreacher came and got me," he told him with a small smile, reading the question in his eyes. "Sirius is still downstairs talking to Kingsley."
"I'm okay," Harry assured him. "It wasn't a… well, it wasn't a vision. He's angry, though. Whatever you did today worked."
"I expect Albus will be pleased to know that," Remus smiled, though it didn't completely erase the look of concern on his face, before standing back up again and helping Harry up. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes," Harry said firmly; and indeed he felt much better than before. That was nothing like his scar-dreams at all. "I'll be fine after some sleep."
"Alright," said Remus, pushing him towards his bedroom. "Off to bed with you, then. Neville's expecting you at noon."
"Night, Moony."
.
Harry woke up at around eight the next morning, and was rather surprised when he found the kitchen empty. Then again, he told himself, Remus was probably pretty tired… he certainly looked it. Shrugging to himself, Harry busied himself with cooking some breakfast – bacon and eggs – and rolling his eyes when he had to shoo Kreacher away.
"Good morning, Harry," Remus said, entering the kitchen at last. "Did you sleep all right? No trouble from your scar?"
"My scar's fine," Harry assured him. "What about you? I mean… well, you looked pretty tired yesterday."
"It was a busy day," Remus said vaguely, offering him a small smile. "I'm fine now, though. Thank you," he added, as Harry handed him a plate of bacon.
"Do you know when Tonks'll get let out?" Harry asked, sitting at the table with his own bacon.
"Next Wednesday, I believe," Remus told him, glancing over.
"Okay," Harry nodded, trying to keep his tone even. Every time he thought about… that… he still felt pretty shaken up; he still felt like he had been the one to raise his wand…
"So, I hear you attempted to Apparate yesterday?" Remus asked, a small smile showing on his face.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, wincing slightly at the memory. "I had no idea splinching was quite as painful as that."
"Yes… I remember when I first splinched myself. Horrible experience… sadly, it's the only way to learn. If you're splinching already, though, then I'd guess you'll learn it pretty fast."
"That's good to know, I guess," Harry grinned.
When Harry stood in front of the fireplace at noon later that day, Sirius still wasn't up.
"I'll make sure he's awake when you come back," Remus promised. "He wanted to practice Apparating again."
"Okay," Harry grinned. "The sooner I get that learned, the safer I'll feel. Say hi to Tonks for me."
"Will do," Remus, who was going to visit Tonks whilst Harry was at Neville's, assured him. "Have fun."
Harry nodded before taking a handful of floo powder, stepping into the fireplace and calling, "The Longbottom Mansion!"
After what felt like ages of spinning past all sorts of different fireplace exits, Harry finally stumbled out of one, landing on his knees. It was better than some of his landings, at least, where he sometimes found himself lying flat on his stomach (or back). He took a moment to get his bearings, hearing a giggle as he finally pushed himself back up. However, barely a second later he found himself nearly toppling back to the floor as an orange blur flew at him.
"Surely you haven't missed me that much already," Harry grinned, patting Ginny's back as he shuffled his feet back a little to help him keep his balance.
"Course she has," Ron's voice came from somewhere behind Ginny. "It's a girl thing," he added once Ginny had pulled away.
"Don't make me hex you, Ronald Weasley!" Ginny scowled at her brother, who visibly winced. He was, no doubt, remembering some hex or another that Ginny had cast on him in the past.
"Hey, Neville," Harry greeted, stepping around Ginny to see the other Gryffindor boy.
"Hiya, Harry," Neville smiled at him. "Why don't we all go out to the greenhouse to talk?" he asked the room at large, before stepping closer to Harry. "Is Tonks okay?"
"S'pose you'll all have heard about that," said Harry, wincing a little as his vision flashed briefly in his mind again. "She's fine… I'll tell you guys about it later."
Neville's greenhouse was nearly as large as one of the Hogwarts' ones, and housed twice the amount of plants seeing as he didn't need to leave space for two classes of students to fit in.
"Wow, Nev," Harry whistled, looking around at all the plants. "I can see why you're the best in the class."
"Thanks," Neville said a little nervously, his face flushing at the praise. "There're some seats over here," he said a little more confidently, leading his friends to the back of the greenhouse. "Gran likes to sit in here with her friends, sometimes. She says it's nice and private for gossiping," he finished, smiling a little.
"Before we do anything else," Ginny called, making herself comfortable on one of the chairs as she turned a piercing gaze on Harry, "tell us about Tonks!"
"She's been frantic with worry," Ron told Harry and Neville in an undertone. "Kingsley fire-called mum after the attack, but she shooed me and Ginny away before we heard much."
"Tonks is fine," Harry assured Ginny, copying her earlier motions and getting comfortable on a chair. "She… well, it was for work, not the Order. They got wind of a Death Eater attack and went out to prevent it from happening… they all got caught, I suppose, and taken to Voldemort." Here, he tried not to roll his eyes as Ron and Neville winced at the Dark Lord's name. Ginny didn't even bat an eyelid, though, and Harry was secretly pleased. "Well, I saw it all, and alerted the Order, who got you-know-who to get them out."
"And you're sure she's okay?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide.
"She's fine. She was beaten up pretty bad, but she's at St. Mungo's now, and the Healers have assured us she'll be fine. Oh, that reminds me," he suddenly grinned. "Guess who else I saw at St. Mungo's?"
"Who?" Ron asked, eyeing him curiously.
"Lockhart!" Harry exclaimed, trying not to laugh at the expression on his friend's face.
"I forgot he was there," Neville said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, so had I," Harry shrugged. "He's like a self-centred little kid, only less cute, always blabbering on about himself. His nurse seems to be encouraging it, always telling him about the books he's written, and his achievements. She must have been one of his fans before he lost his memory. He gave me twenty signed photographs before I left, telling me to hand them out to my friends – especially you, Ron," Harry rolled his eyes.
"Why me?" Ron asked, brows furrowing in confusion.
"He seems to think you're 'rather fond' of him. I think he remembered you best out of us all."
"Ew," Ron grimaced. "That prat? No way!"
"Watch it, Ron. I could say the same about you," Ginny said, sticking her tongue out at her brother before turning to Harry. "You're already having a busier summer than the rest of us put together," Ginny said lightly.
"Yeah," Neville agreed. "Anything else we should know about?"
"Not really," Harry shrugged. "I mean, I'm learning how to Apparate now, but apart from that it's really just training. Not much else to do."
"Lucky git," Ron grumbled. "Apparating sounds cool."
"Not when you splinch, it isn't," Harry disagreed, shuddering at the memory.
.
Eventually when the outside heat got to be a little much, the four friends returned to the kitchen for some orange juice, then dragged a table out to the greenhouse to sit the glasses on.
"Hey," Harry said suddenly, sitting his glass down on the table they were sitting at. "I thought you said Luna was coming?"
"She was," Neville shrugged. "Something came up with her dad."
"Is she alright?" Harry asked, his mind instantly coming up with all sorts of horrible reasons for her absence.
"Yeah," Neville assured him. "Her dad found something that needed 'urgent researching' or something, and he needed her help with it."
"Oh," Harry breathed. "That's okay, then. They're probably off to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, or something," he grinned, trying to lighten his mood.
.
It didn't take long for them all to move back inside, eager to get out of the overly-warm greenhouse. They'd headed into the living room, where Ron, ever the eager chess player, noticed a large Wizard Chess board as soon as they entered.
"Please?" Ron begged, when everyone instantly backed away from him. Harry raised an eyebrow and turned to Ginny who glared at him before turning to Neville who let out a small sigh and walked towards the chess board.
"I'll play you, then," Neville said, accepting defeat. Harry and Ginny smirked at each other before settling themselves down to watch what could only be an interesting match, especially as they now had an unspoken agreement to goad Ron as much as possible. Perhaps if they distracted him enough, Neville would stand a better chance.
Needless to say, although the game lasted longer, Ron still bet Neville with unnatural ease.
.
It wasn't long before Tonks was out of St Mungo's and back at Grimmauld Place, bringing back the cheerfulness that the place had lacked in her absence. Sirius and Remus just didn't have Tonks' bright, and slightly-naïve outlook to life. Both were prone to lapsing into thoughts that you could tell were depressing just by looking at them, whereas it was impossible to find Tonks without a bright smile on her face. This summer seemed to be passing even faster than the last, if that was possible. Harry blamed this partly on the pranking between Sirius and Tonks, which was fun and could make any day speed by, but he also had a feeling it was to do with the fact that his uncle was on his mind a lot less this time, as he had come straight from Hogwarts, rather than going back to the Dursleys first.
His training helped a lot, too. It seemed that spending a few hours a day learning new spells (or new muggle fighting techniques) was a brilliant way to speed up time. Sirius and Remus were trying to teach him how to Apparate at weekends, too, and Harry was happy with how he was progressing. He'd only splinched himself twice since his first 'lesson' and could now easily reach his hoop. They still kept him practicing at it, though, saying you could never be too cautious.
Harry's birthday was fast approaching, something he wasn't sure whether he ought to be looking forward to, or dreading. He liked being able to spend his birthday with Sirius, Remus and Tonks, but his guardians were hinting at throwing another party, and having lots of attention placed on him (even by friends) was something he could happily do without. He supposed it was better than either being ignored (like he had at the Dursleys since he'd become a wizard) or being beaten for thinking he 'deserved a special day'. Not that he'd ever tried to make his birthday anything special; he had never changed his routine at the Dursleys. Dudley had liked to make up lies when they were really young, though, and would tell Vernon that Harry had been talking to himself about 'presents and cakes', which instantly set the older man off. 'What makes you think you deserve any of those special things, boy, eh? They're only for normal kids, not freaks who go around disturbing everyone's lives! Go finish your chores or you'll get worse than just a bloody beating tonight, you ungrateful little freak!'
In fact, the night before his birthday he had a nightmare regarding his sixth birthday.
It was a Thursday… probably one of the better days to have his birthday, as Dudley always went to Pier's on a Thursday, and Uncle Vernon worked weekdays. He, thankfully, did not get the lengthy summer holidays that Harry and Dudley did. All Harry really had to put up with his Aunt, and the worst he ever received from her (physically) was a slap.
Nevertheless, he woke up that Thursday morning with a larger amount of dread than usual. His Uncle only worked during the day; he'd have to be especially good if he wanted to avoid his Uncle's temper at night. And Dudley…he wouldn't be away all day. Biting back a sigh – something very odd for a six year old to do – Harry crawled out of his cupboard in his too-large clothes and slipped into the kitchen, where his Aunt and Uncle were all ready waiting. A large frying pan sat on the cooker and a packet of bacon lay off to the side.
"Bacon and eggs today, boy, and don't you dare burn them," Petunia snapped at him.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied meekly.
From the glare his Uncle sent him before heading off to work, Harry knew this was going to be a bad day.
Harry's fears proved to be true, for when his Uncle returned home that night he was in a very bad mood. A very, very, very bad mood.
"Boy!" his Uncle hollered, fury lacing his voice. Harry considered hiding in his cupboard all night, but knew that would only make his punishment worse, so he quietly slipped out and padded softly to the living room, where his Uncle was drinking some whiskey.
"Yes?" Harry asked quietly, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.
"Dudley tells me you tried to sneak some food earlier," Vernon said, in barely controlled rage. "Says you thought you deserved it, as a birthday present."
"No, Uncle Vernon," Harry couldn't hide the fear now. "I-"
"Silence, boy," his Uncle snarled, and Harry obeyed immediately. It wouldn't do to make his Uncle even more mad at him, after all. Even at six years old, Harry understood completely how he had to act around his Uncle. Survival instincts, he called them.
"I thought, after last year, you would have learned. Obviously I was mistaken… I suppose I'll just have to try and teach you again."
"No, Uncle, please…"
Begging was, of course, no use and soon the only things Harry was aware of were pain and the strong, sickly smell of his Uncle's favourite whiskey.
Harry awoke, sucking in a large amount of air as he tried to keep himself from crying out. He took a moment before opening his eyes, half-afraid he would see his Uncle's hate-filled gaze staring back at him. When no such thing occurred, though, Harry slowly uncurled himself from the ball he'd curled into, still breathing unevenly as some of the fear continued to flow through his body. Eventually, he managed to make himself sit up and gaze around the room warily, shivering as the cool air hit his sweaty body. Everything was as it should be; a large desk against one wall, a wardrobe against another and some bookshelves on the one that held the window. Hedwig's cage sat on one of the bookshelves, the door wide open and the cage itself empty as Hedwig was out hunting. She'd be back soon, though. Sally, too, was missing; no doubt slithering round the house trying to find a comfortable spot. His room was the complete opposite of his old one, back at the Dursleys… so why, when he gazed around and looked into the shadows, did his Uncle's furious glare pop up in his mind? Why did he still flinch and let out a small whimper when it looked like one of the shadows moved slightly? Everything was so different, so why did he still feel the same fear now that he'd always felt when he awoke at the Dursleys? Why the hell was he letting a simple nightmare get to him so much? Unable to find the energy to groan at himself, Harry simply stood up and walked out the room… hot chocolate sounded good… hell, anything sounded good, if it would distract him from the ever-growing itching on his arms and legs, which were begging to be scratched, to make him feel better.
Harry was still extremely jumpy as he made his way down to the kitchen, nearly falling down the stairs as he caught sight of a moving shadow – which happened to be his own shadow. He was, as always, careful to avoid the squeaky stair as he descended them, and was careful as he opened the kitchen door, which had a habit of slamming into the wall if you opened it too enthusiastically.
As absorbed as he was in trying to remain silent, Harry didn't even notice the figure sitting in the semi-darkness of the room as he headed over to the kettle, setting it to boil. He was just about to reach up to one of the cupboards when a hand was placed gently on his shoulder and he flinched away, tripping over his own foot and landing flat on his bum.
"Harry?" Sirius asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He frowned as his brain caught up with him and he realized Harry was sprawled on the floor. "Clumsy bugger," Sirius said good-naturedly, leaning down to help Harry up. Harry, however, flinched away from the touch once again before pulling himself up, watching Sirius with uncertain eyes.
"What's wrong?" Sirius asked softly, watching with concerned eyes as Harry gazed at the floor, unwilling to meet his godfather's eyes. It had been a long, long time – well, a year, really – since Harry had flinched away from touch like that.
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled. Sirius raised an eyebrow, stepping forward to touch Harry's shoulder again, sighing as Harry flinched for the third time that night.
"That isn't nothing, Harry," Sirius said, running a hand through his tangled hair. "Sit down."
"Sirius-"
"Sit down, Harry," Sirius said wearily, pulling out a chair. After a moment of hesitation, Harry complied, and Sirius pulled a second chair out so he could sit and face Harry. "Now, would you like to tell me why you're flinching away every time I try to touch you?"
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled again, not meeting Sirius' gaze.
"Harry, do you want me to wake Remus up?"
"No!" Harry protested quickly. "It was the full moon only a couple of days ago… he needs his rest…"
"If you don't tell me why you're scared of me, I will get him," Sirius warned, and Harry winced as he heard the slightly hurt tone in his godfather's voice.
"It was just a dream," Harry mumbled, gazing at the kitchen table.
"About?" Sirius pressed.
"What do you think?" Harry asked, a little harshly. "My bloody Uncle, of course! He…" Harry's voice softened, and he groaned inwardly as his body shuddered involuntarily.
"He what, Harry?" Sirius asked gently, urging him to continue.
"It was just a dream," Harry shook his head. "Just a dream…"
"Harry, lying to yourself won't help matters. We both know this was a memory, not a dream. What happened?"
"It was my sixth birthday," Harry relented. "I guess someone upset him at work. It was always my fault if something happened at work… he was already in a bad mood when he came home that night. Then Dudley… even at that age, he liked to see me get hurt… he told him some stuff… just a bunch of lies, and Unc – and Vernon – believed him… that was one of the worst 'birthday beatings' I ever got."
"'Birthday beatings'?"
"Every year since I was four he found an excuse to beat me on my birthday. Usually it wasn't too bad. Like I said, that was one of the worst."
"That bastard!" Sirius growled, causing Harry to jump.
"I think I'll go back to bed now," Harry said nervously, standing up.
"No," Sirius stood, too, grabbing Harry's hand and refusing to let it go, even when he flinched. "I didn't mean to frighten you, I'm sorry. Look, we'll go through to the living room, okay? I just want more tea, first. D'you want some hot chocolate?"
"Sure…" Harry nodded, chewing his lip. Sirius sent him an encouraging smile before Harry practically ran out of the kitchen.
When Sirius reached the living room with the two mugs, one of tea and one of hot chocolate, it was to find Harry sitting on the floor, his back resting lightly against the sofa and his gaze fixed steadily on the fire.
"Harry?" Sirius asked softly, trying not to startle him. He knew how easy it could be for Harry to slip back into his old ways – this was far worse than the nightmare he'd had after the second task. That, although it had unsettled and disturbed him, hadn't had him flinching every time someone tried to touch him.
"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, turning his head and holding Sirius' gaze for the first time all night. "For… for flinching, and s-snapping at you."
"You know you don't need to apologise for that," Sirius told him soothingly, crossing the room and lowering himself to sit beside Harry, also leaning his back against the sofa. "Here's your drink."
"Thanks," Harry said softly, smiling a little as he took it out of Sirius' hand. "Why does it still get to me so much?" he blurted out after a moment of silence. "It's been over a year since I saw them… saw him… why does it still bother me? I should be over it by now… I was better during the school year… why…?"
"Harry," Sirius said gently. "Your uncle abused you in many ways for many years. He did some – some terrible things, things that would break even a grown man. You've been coping really well considering everything that's happened, but there's no way anyone would expect you to just 'get over it' in the space of a year, or even two or three. As for you coping better during the school year, well… you had a lot of distractions. School work, homework and the Tournament. All you have here is training, and you've been doing less of that lately."
"Only because you're reluctant to start on the non-verbal stuff," Harry teased him lightly, and Sirius smiled in relief. At least Harry wasn't completely depressed.
"It's hard to do," Sirius said shortly. "It tires you out easy, too."
"Remus and Sev don't mind me doing it."
"That's them," Sirius shrugged. Harry stared at him for a moment before nodding, apparently to himself.
"Are you okay?" Sirius asked eventually, sitting his half-full cup of tea down on the floor beside him.
For a moment, it looked as though Harry would come away with his typical, 'I'm fine' answer, but after a moment he merely shrugged. "Dunno," Harry told him honestly. He kept his gaze on the fire and his cup in his hands, relishing in the heat that both gave him. At least the urge to cut himself wasn't as bad as usual. Maybe he was finally starting to get over it? Oh, he'd never be completely over it, he knew that. Like smoking; even if you give it up, the urge is always going to be hiding away in a small corner of your mind. But he had been thinking about it less, lately. That said, he'd been thinking about his Uncle less, too, and look where that had gotten him. Shivering slightly, suddenly feeling cold, Harry sat his cup down on the floor and pulled his knees up to him, wrapping his arms around his legs.
"I'm a mess," Harry said suddenly, sounding sad. "Look at me… it's my fifteenth birthday, and I'm sitting here, all… what? Depressed?"
"You're not a mess, Harry," Sirius told him softly. "You can't help it if certain things remind you of what Dursley used to do. Anyone would be the same… in fact, a lot would be worse… come here," he said, opening one of his arms. Harry glanced at him, hesitated slightly, then shuffled over, leaning his head on Sirius' shoulder whilst his godfather wrapped a comforting arm around him. "Get some more sleep, kiddo. Tonks refused to let you have a birthday without a party – or a birthday prank – so you'll need your energy."
"Evil witch," Harry mumbled, his eyes closing of their own accord. Really, it was rather comfy here.
Sirius laughed. "I've been saying that for years." When Harry didn't reply, Sirius glanced down to find him already asleep. "Sleep well, kiddo," Sirius smiled softly, conjuring a blanket to lie over the two of them. There wasn't much point in moving, after all. Soon, Sirius drifted off to sleep, too, his head dropping down to rest on Harry's messy hair.
Chapter three! I hope you'll forgive me for the ever so slightly depressing ending to the chapter. I've got half of chapter four written already, and I can assure you it's full of fun and humour to make up for it. Harry even has a go at some 'pranking', though I won't get into that.
Thanks to my two lovely new betas, magicaltears and teenagemetamorphmagus, who helped me a lot with this chapter. I love you guys : ).
That said, there's nothing else to do except ask for your opinions in the form of a review, and present to you another theme-request for stories. It's quite similar to the last, where I want James in it. I don't suppose anyone knows any good ones where James didn't really die that night on Halloween; he lost his memory, was captured by Death Eaters whilst an impostor faked his death, etc. and he returns to Harry at some point during his Hogwarts years?
There was another theme, too, but I've completely forgotten what it was. Bad memories suck.
Chapter four will hopefully be up within a couple of weeks. Hope you don't mind the long waits, but until I get properly back into writing... yeah. At least my writers block is nearly completely gone.