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Thank you all again, and without further ado, here is the next chapter.

CHAPTER FOUR: The Cost of War

This was not fun.

Embarrassing, yes. Uncomfortable, definitely.

But not fun.

Not even close.

And Harry could not think of any way to make it better. In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to make it infinitely worse with the final memory; through the trapdoor. It made everything else that had happened pale in comparison and yet people seemed shaken by the few events they had already witnessed.

That was one thing Harry simply could not get his head around. Why did these people care so much? Over the years he had gotten rather used to Hermione's fussing and Molly's worry, but they knew him, and had for years. Why were these people he literally just met so invested in his life?

Harry's gaze surveyed the table and it occupants, feeling draw despite himself, to the Potters. His brain knew and understood that these were not his parents, that he had no claim upon them. His heart on the other hand seemed to need a little more convincing.

"I propose a short break for dinner before continuing." Dumbledore's soft voice broke the otherwise silent room with the power of starting gun, his statement seeming to act as some sort of signal to everyone else, for all at once conversations erupted in every direction.

Harry settled back in his seat, grateful for the slight reprieve, and the chance to gather his thoughts that was presented by everyone's distraction

It had been harder than he thought it would be, reliving the memories.

The events themselves weren't that difficult to watch. After all, he already knew how they ended. He had already lived through it all.

No, that wasn't what was hard.

What was to hard was watching the people in them.

It was hard seeing the naive innocence in Hermione's face, so concerned with breaking a few school rules when he knew she would spend her seventh year with him, breaking nearly every law possible. Bloody hell, they had robbed even robbed a bank together!

It was hard seeing the blatant trust in Ron's face. That unwavering loyalty, already so committed to Harry, before Ron was even old enough to understand what that meant. The same faith that had put Ron in countless life-threatening situations over the years. Robbing Gringotts had been a three person job after all.

It was hard seeing everyone he knew, even the teachers, so much younger, so much lighter. It wasn't until he looked back that he realized how much the war had changed people. How much it had taken.

Everyone seemed to look at the cost of war as a tally of bodies. How many dead people someone had known used as a mark of how much they had lost. No one considered the other costs of war.

Harry didn't even realize how old and weary McGonagall currently looked until he saw her as she had been in his first year. It wasn't until he saw Snape striding through the halls in full fury that he realized how stiffly the man had moved those last few months, years of curses finally catching up to him. Even Hagrid had changed after that final battle, his face freshly scarred and a jaded look in his eye that would never have been seen during his first year.

In many ways, the dead had it easy. No grieving. No one to be strong for. No more emotional break downs. No more responsibility. No changes to bear through. Just… Nothing.

And looking at who the people he considered among his closest friends used to be, compared to who they were now, Harry thought he understood at last the true cost of war.

It was a price that went far beyond dead bodies. It cost people their livelihoods, their peace of mind, their innocence. It changed them on a fundamental level that was seen only in comparison.

And so war was tallied in body counts instead.

After all, how did one measure a person's personality?

"Harry?"

A soft voice jolted Harry from his spiraling thoughts and he looked up to find himself face to face with none other than his moth- with Lily Potter.

"Yes ma'am?" He questioned, striving for the distance his brain demanded, much to his yearning heart's displeasure.

"Please, call me Lily."

God, even her smile was perfect.

"I just wanted to come over and introduce myself and see if you needed anything."

He was hearing his mother's voice. He was hearing his mother's voice. He was hearing his mother voice.

Shutting his suddenly gaping mouth with a harsh clattering of teeth, Harry shook himself slightly, trying to regather his scattered thoughts. Forcing a smile that probably more closely resembled a grimace than anything else, Harry replied with what he hoped was a calm voice, "No thank you. I'm fine for now."

"Are you sure dear?"

The soft touch on his arm caused Harry to flinch instinctively despite its gentle nature, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Lily.

"Yeah. I am sure. Just a little… Disorientated." Harry flashed another forced smile that felt as unnatural and painful and it probably looked.

"Okay then… You just let me know if you need anything okay?"

An uncomfortable silence descended between the pair, neither knowing what to say to other. What was the proper ettiequte for greeting cross-dimensional relatives?

"Do you have any siblings?"

Harry jumped at the unexpected question and felt inexplicably flustered as he fumbled with a response. "Er-no. My parents were killed when I was a just over a year old. I don't know if they were planning to have any more kids…"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in a clear sign of anxiety, the tense silence descending once more. Searching desperately searching for something, anything, to break the awkwardness, Harry blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Does this Harry have- er- I mean, do you have any children?"

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why would she want to to tell you anything? Nosy idiot-

"Yes. I have four."

Harry's internal scolding was brought to a rather abrupt halt by Lily's response. It had never occurred to home that he could've had siblings if his parents had lived. What if's were something he tended to try to avoid on principle, long experience teaching him the pain such an activity often brought, and even when he did indulge himself, he never really considered himself as an older brother.

Not to say he was adverse to the idea.

Watching the Weasley's interact with one another, Harry had often found himself longing for the easy companionship that was found amongst the siblings. Even with their rather rambunctious teasing, their care and love for another was clear for all to see, each one sharing a kind of effortless understanding of one another Harry had often found himself envying, even if he didn't fully understand it.

Seeming to realize that Lily had piqued Harry's interest she continued on, giving a brief description of each of her children.

"The eldest is Harry, or our version of Harry. You two don't actually look that similar, but close enough to guess that you could perhaps be brothers. You share the curse of the Potter hair and my eyes, although your build is much slimmer than my Harry's. He is 17, nearly 18, which I am assuming is the same age you are.

Next is Rosemary or Rose as she likes to be called. She is 14 and going into her fourth year at Hogwarts She has my red hair with James's hair ability to defy gravity, a rather interesting combination. She has James's eyes along with his love of pranks and everything quidditch.

After Rose is Violet. She is like her sister in personality but nearly her exact opposite in looks. She is 12 and in is going to start her second year in august. She has James's hair color and eyes, but my build and hair texture.

The baby of the family is little William, or Will as he firmly reminds us. He is different than his sisters, much more quiet with my red hair and far more bookish tendencies than any of his other siblings. Despite that, he is a little spitfire when he sets his mind to be, and has a stubborn streak wide enough to rival James's. He just turned 11 a few weeks ago, and is currently eagerly and rather impatiently, awaiting his Hogwarts letter."

Listening to Lily talk about her children, Harry felt his already aching heart give another painful twinge.

It was apparent in everything Lily did, from her tone of voice to the gleam in her eye, how much she loved all her kids. The kind of love he had always yearned for. The kind of love he would give anything to have and call his own.

To have it so clearly displayed by the woman who was almost his mother was almost more than he could take.

Not his mother. Not his. Not his. Not his

Harry repeated what was fast becoming his mantra of survival in this new world as Lily finished her descriptions.

Her green eyes, so similar to his own, danced merrily, trying to put him at ease as she continued to describe some of the more memorable escapes her children had taken part in over the years.

And it worked.

Harry felt himself begin to relax, his mantra forgotten for the moment as he lost himself in entertaining tales of childhood mishaps. It was easy as he listened to her talk, to forget who she was and what she represented and instead lose himself in the funny stories.

It was a distraction he sorely needed, as muscles he hadn't even realized were tense relaxed and his smiles slowly became more genuine as he cautiously allowed himself to become immersed in tales of what his life might have been.

###########################

Lily watched in satisfaction as Harry began to unwind before her very eyes. For the first time since she had seen him, he looked his age. And yet, somehow, it seemed to make him look that much older.

The haunted look in his eyes, the borderline paranoid way his gaze never stopped surveying the room, were things that were easier to accept as part of a man, than it was for a child.

And he was a child.

For all of his poise and manners and skills, Harry was still a child, barely out of Hogwarts.

It was something that was easy to forget, when he carried himself in a way that belied any sense of youth. It was something beyond his measured movements. It was something beyond the scars that littered his skin, beyond the jumpiness and well-honed instincts.

It was the aura he projected, a feeling of casual power, of effortless leadership, she had seen only in the great wizards of the time. Wizards that knew the power they held and were confident enough in their ability to wield it that they no longer felt the need to flaunt it.

It was a presence she had only ever seen in older wizards, such as Dumbledore himself, and it was that beyond all else that made it hard to Lily to remember she was speaking to a child, rather than a seasoned leader.

Her sharp eyes proceeded to study the young man before her as she continued on with her tale. It was a favorite amongst friends and family alike, and required little if any conscious thought for her to share, leaving her free to study Harry to her hearts content.

He has a nice laugh, she though to herself, as she watched his face scrunched in mirth. It was different than her Harry's, seeming to be lighter and softer, lacking the boldness her son's laugh held, while possessing just the faintest hint of surprise, as if this Harry didn't expect to be laughing.

"And just what is so funny over here?"

If looks could kill, James would be little more than a shapeless blob on the floor from the ferocity of the glare Lily was shooting his way.

She loved her husband with all of her heart and soul but sometimes he has the tact of bull in a china shop.

Lily ignored her husband and watched in dismay as Harry withdrew before her very eyes. It seemed that whatever comfort he was able to find in the story was gone, shattered by Jame's thoughtless intrusion.

Back was the mask of the ageless leader, settling into place until no trace of the amused child that had made such a brief appearance remained.

Curse her husband and his wretched timing.

Curse it all.

"Nothing sir."

Harry's voice was calm but reserved and Lily watched how he eyed James, taking in everything from his his messy hair to his scuffed shoes. It was clear Harry was assessing him, measuring him up as one would an opponent.

Is that really how he sees us? A threat? The thought caused another crack in Lily's already broken heart, not that she could really blame the boy. After all, she knew her sister, and based on that first memory alone, his childhood had been even worse than she would have guessed..

"Er-" James began to shift uncomfortably, seeming to have suddenly caught onto the fact that he had interrupted something. "Well, um, I had a quick question actually, if you don't mind that is…"

Watching Harry and James side by side, it was easy to see the resemblance between the two. Harry was built on a much slimmer frame than her husband, but the overall look was the same, the trademark bed-head hairdo making them look even more alike.

"Er- see, Sirius mentioned something about the 'golden trio' and well, I was just curious what you meant by that."

Lily blinked blankly at her husband, rather ticked off that he had interrupted her conversation, her attempt to bond, in order to ask about a stupid title.

If looks could kill…

Harry nodded in acknowledgment, his hand trailing though his hair seemingly without conscious thought, in a gesture Lily recognized as something James did when he was anxious.

"The golden trio is a title given to my friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley and I. As I mentioned previously, I was rather famous back home, and as you perhaps noticed, I seem to have an uncanny ability to attract trouble. It is a rather heady combination that lead to more than our fair share of notoriety over the years, both in and out of school, and gave rise to the name. Another group of students that were also key leaders in the war were occasionally called the Silver Trio. Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom, all of whom are brilliant people and among my best friends."

Lily did not miss the way he said 'other key leaders in the war,' and she did not like the implications of that at all. She hated to think of any child having to play any role in the war, but for it to be her almost son…

She hated it.

And to make matters worse he had said 'key' leaders

If the silver trio had been 'key leaders,' what did that make the golden trio? Were the face of the war itself?

No.

She quickly discounted that thought as impossible. No one would be stupid enough to put that much faith, or that much pressure, on mere teenagers. They would have more common sense than that.

Wouldn't they?

Her confidence that she had been wrong, that had seemed so strong mere seconds before, slipped through her fingers like water. Everything else is his world was wrong, why not this as well? Why not make school children the face of an entire war?

"What did you mean by key leaders?"

The question slipped passed her lips before she even realized what happened.

Stupid.

She was an idiot.

Mortified at her inexcusable lack of tact and hoping it didn't ruin whatever thin sense of camaraderie they have managed to build in the last few minutes, Lily quickly tried to retract her statement only to be halted by Harry's raised hand.

"It's fine. Honestly. It's all going to come out anyway."

Here, Harry paused, his hand once again trailing through his already untidy hair.

"I was seen by the public as the poster child for the light side. Add to that my adventures, often with my friends by my side, we quickly became the prominent faces in the war, not always for the light side. I was even granted the title of Undesirable Number 1 for a time, in connection to the murder of a trusted mentor."

Lily found herself speechless.

So much for people having common sense.

Accusing a child of murder? Who had died? An infant the vanguard of the light sight?

None of it made any sense.

What sort of insane demon crazed hell-hole did this kid come from?

Finding herself with an overwhelming urge to offer comfort, however meager it may be, Lily reached out her hand and rested it gently atop Harry's interwoven ones, ignoring his slight stiffening at her touch.

She opened her mouth to offer some words of comfort as well, only to be cut off by none-other than Kreacher.

A clean, seemingly sane Kreacher.

"Master Harry Potter sir! Its beings yous! I beings a findings Master Harry Potter sirs!"

And just when Lily was sure things couldn't get any weirder, she watched Kreacher, the most blood-purist, miserable, evil, house elf she had every met, hug Harry Potter with a grin clearly creasing his aged face.