Thank you everyone for the favs and the reviews; I am so happy to finally be able to post these stories here at fanfiction and am glad that you're enjoying this first fic. Hugs, SHaria
4. Detached
A rustle of sound woke Harry; he opened his eyes and to his amazement, there was his Godfather sitting there next to him.
"Sirius, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead. Aren't you dead?"
"Who, me? Merlin no. I just stepped out of the room for a minute."
Relief flooded through Harry. "I'm so glad to see you. I thought I killed you."
Sirius let out a roaring laugh. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all day. I think you've been doing too much homework lately."
Another noise startled Harry from his dream, and this time he really did open his eyes. Indeed there was someone sitting next to him, but it was Ron, not Sirius.
"Do you know?" asked Ron.
"What?" Harry responded groggily.
"It starts with the letter P."
Harry squeezed his eyelids tightly, trying to focus. "What are you talking about?"
"I asked if you knew the name of that chap. You know… the one who invented Quadpot?"
"Oh." Harry felt completely disorientated. "Um, I don't know. Something like... Peasegood? Maybe?"
"That's it! Brilliant! I'm almost done now. Just two more down and three more across."
It was Saturday morning and Ron's turn to sit with his injured friend and since Harry spent half his time sleeping, Ron had decided to bring along the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly and an extra long Sugar Quill to help pass away the hours. He was currently working on the crossword puzzle.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"Where's Sirius? He was here just a minute ago."
Ron lowered the magazine and looked at Harry. This wasn't the first time he'd dreamt of Sirius during the past week. Everyone who'd sat with him had witnessed some version of what just occurred.
"Come on mate, you were just having one of those dreams again. Remember? You remember what happened back in June, right?"
Harry closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his aching head. "Oh, yeah ... sorry."
"Uh, don't worry about it. It's just that stupid draught you have to take; it makes you all loopy."
Harry didn't bother to respond. He just lay there gently rubbing the spot on his head where the laceration had been. Even though Madame Pomfrey had healed the wound, the area felt numb yet tingly, all at the same time. She said it was because of some damage to the nerves in the area and that it would go away eventually; but still, it was an odd feeling.
"Hey mate, you hungry? You want some soup or something?"
Harry shook his head, no. Even though it had been a slight movement, he instantly regretted the attempt as the muscles and tendons in his neck were still quite tender.
Dobby suddenly appeared on Harry's bed, carrying a tray of food.
"Dobby! We were just talking about getting some food," exclaimed Ron.
The little elf turned to look at Ron with an odd expression. "Dobby is knowing this, Harry's Wheezy. For Dobby is many times checking on his Harry Potter."
"You do?" managed Harry.
Dobby nodded and walked up the length of the bed to place the tray on Harry's lap. "Dobby is very fast and very quiet and Dobby is making it so that he is not seen, if that is what Dobby wishes."
Ron had already grabbed one of the Roast Beef Sandwiches and replied with his mouth full of food. "I diddin know dat. Can all duh elves do dat?"
Dobby stared worriedly at Harry. "Harry Potter is not eating his food."
"I'm just not very hungry," he answered and picked away at the crust of a sandwich.
Dobby sat down and touched Harry on the shoulder. "Please Harry Potter, please eat something for Dobby. Dobby is making Harry Potter some of his I'osi's special broth. Will Harry Potter please try some?"
Harry looked confusedly at Dobby. "Who is I'osi?"
The little elf smiled at his favorite wizard and shook his head. "Harry Potter, I'osi is not being a name; it is being a thing. I'osi is meaning grandmother, and Dobby's grandmother is being named Widgen."
"Oh."
"Please Harry Potter, try some of I'osi's broth."
"Okay." He tried reaching for the cup of broth. Since his accident, such maneuvers were challenging because the torn retina in his left eye was affecting his vision, making it distorted and impairing his depth perception.
He took a couple of small sips and then set the cup back down on the tray. Ron had already finished his own sandwich and started in on one half of Harry's.
"Harry Potter is not liking I'osi's broth?"
"No, it's good. Thanks for making it."
Dobby's ears drooped as he looked at his friend with concern. The little elf was at a loss and didn't know what he could do to help his Harry Potter feel better.
~~~SH~~~
When Harry had sufficiently recovered, Madame Pomfrey released him to the care of Arthur and Molly. The still mending skull fracture, concussion and torn retina caused Harry to experience bouts of dizziness, which left everyone far too concerned for his safety to let him attempt the stairs. So Molly and Ginny had cleared out the sewing room on the first floor and set it up as a bedroom for Harry to use during his convalescence.
It was now well into the first week of August. The heat of summer lay heavy upon Ottery St. Catchpole. The garden at the Burrow had soaked up the warmth and was now bursting with blossoms of Roses, Clematis and Peonies, their flowers lacing the still air with heady scents.
The expanse of grass surrounding the home and stretching out to the orchard welcomed anyone who wished to lie upon its coolness, but because Harry had to be mindful of the delicate situation with his torn retina; he could not leave the embrace of the cottage. It was necessary for him to take a Calming Draught in order to keep his blood pressure at a normal level, so that his retina could heal properly. A side affect from the draught was that it caused his pupils to remain partially dilated, so he needed to stay out of the bright sunlight in order to protect his eyes. The best he could manage was to sit on the porch swing, either in the early morning or after the sun had lowered in the sky, and stare at the blur of his surroundings.
That was about all he did, hour after hour, day after day. When not sitting on the swing, he would retire to his bedroom to lie on the bed and stare at the wall. He didn't talk or interact much with anyone. Even though he was now staying in a home with people that loved and cared about him, he felt completely alone.
Harry knew something was wrong with the way he was feeling, but he couldn't muster the energy or interest to give the matter much thought.
The void where he had been before the accident and where he was now, was much easier to deal with somehow. So he gave in and allowed it to carry him along, drifting within a bubble of emptiness. He had been alone for so long, trying to deal with his grief and loss, that this solitude had become his familiar companion. It didn't matter that the Weasleys loved him, his new companion kept Harry secluded and well beyond their reach.
~~~SH~~~
Molly pushed open the back screen door and peeked out to check on Harry.
He was in his usual spot on the porch swing, just sitting and staring. She went over and sat down beside him and gave him a warm hug.
"I was just about to make a nice batch of scones; would you like to come in and keep me company?"
Harry shook his head no.
Molly glanced sideways at the young man. "How's your head feeling this morning dear, any better, or still achy?"
"It's better, thanks."
Molly gave up on further conversation and decided to just sit with the young man. She watched Ron and Ginny as they worked in the vegetable garden, weeding and cultivating the plants. After they completed their morning chores, her two youngest were free to spend the remainder of the day as they wished.
As they sat in silence, she caught sight of an owl far off in the distance.
"Here comes the morning post."
Harry looked up and watched the spec in the distance grow larger as the owl came closer and closer to the house, then dropped the post and parcels in Molly's lap.
Molly thumbed through the letters. "This one is for you."
She handed him a large envelope; it was from Hermione. There were many stamps and a return address that included the name USS Bella Rosa, then c/o Mr. and Mrs. Granger's London address.
"Can you manage to read it on your own, dear?
"Yeah Mrs. Weasley, I'll just close my bad eye. It'll be okay."
"All right then, I'll go in and bake those scones. Call if you need anything."
She gave him another hug then rose from the swing, but before she had made it through the screen door, Harry spoke to her.
"Mrs. Weasley?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Um ... Thanks."
She walked back to the swing, leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head. "You're very welcome, dear." She patted him gently on the shoulder before heading back to the kitchen. "I'll bring you a scone as soon as they're ready."
~~~SH ~~~
Harry slowly tore back the flap and pulled out what appeared to be a present and a letter.
Dear Harry,
Ron wrote and told me that you were finally able to leave the infirmary. I'm so glad the Headmaster allowed you to go to the Burrow. I'll bet Mrs. Weasley is taking good care of you. I've been so worried about you since I heard of the accident. I tried to get Mom and Dad to cut our trip short, but they said no. I wish you could be here Harry. The cruise boat is like nothing you've ever seen. It's huge! There's even a library. At the beginning of our trip, we went through the Panama Canal. You wouldn't have believed it Harry, how it all works. It's absolutely amazing. We've made it down the west side of Latin America and through the Straights of Magellan. It's fascinating visiting all the little towns, seeing the different people and their cultures. I'll tell you all about it when we're back at school. We'll only just get back in time to go to Diagon Alley and get my supplies. It's time for dinner, so I need to finish this letter. Please take care of yourself. I hope you enjoy the present.
All my love,
Hermione
Harry bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears, set aside the letter and undid the wrappings to the present.
It was a black baseball cap. Across the front of the cap, embroidered in an iridescent shade of green were the words PANAMA CANAL. Also enclosed was a soft cover booklet describing the construction and operation of the canal.
"What's that?" Ron asked as he and Ginny made their way up from the vegetable garden.
"A present from Hermione."
Ginny picked up the booklet and began to read it as Ron took the cap from Harry. "Wow, this is so cool!" he marveled.
"It's a baseball cap, Ron." Harry stated, matter-of-factly.
"What's that ... baseball?"
Harry shook his head. They really had been brought up in such different worlds. "It's a Muggle sport they play over in the states; it's like Cricket."
"Yeah, I've heard of Cricket before. Why don't they make caps like this for Quidditch? That would be so cool."
The three hung out in silence for a bit, Ginny reading, Ron busily adjusting the leather strap at the back of the cap, while Harry sat and stared at the porch railing. After Ron got the cap sized just right, he hopped up on the railing to stare out at the orchard and slipped in a few sideways glances at his silent friend.
Ron debated for the umpteenth time, whether or not to bring up a subject the entire family had been skirting around ever since Harry's arrival. His intentions always good, if not wise, Ron decided to go for it.
"You know mate, we never did get to celebrate your birthday. How about if we do it in the next few days? We already got all the decorations and stuff. Come on, it will be fun!"
Ginny immediately stopped her reading, fearing the worst, she held her breath.
When Harry didn't respond and the silence grew to awkward proportions, Ron tried again. "Did you hear me? What do you think about having your..."
Harry cut Ron off mid-sentence. "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"What d'ya mean? Come on, you've got to have your birthday party, even if it is a little late."
"Leave him alone," reprimanded Ginny.
"Hey Gin, no one asked for your opinion!"
Harry interjected before she could respond. "Ginny... don't bother."
Then he turned to Ron. "Look, I don't want a birthday party … okay? Can you understand that? I don't feel like celebrating so just drop it, all right? Drop it!" Harry stood up and marched into the house, slamming the screen door behind him for good measure.
Ginny glared at her brother. "Now see what you've gone and done? I hope you're proud of yourself!"
Dumfounded by Harry's outburst, Ron stared in shock as his mother came out to ask what had happened to upset Harry so much.
"Mom, I just asked him about having his birthday party. Who wouldn't want a birthday party?"
Molly sighed. "Oh Ronny, Harry is going through quite a bit right now. You've seen how withdrawn and sad he is."
"I know Mom, but maybe a party would cheer him up."
Molly crossed the porch, lifted the cap from her son's head and ran her fingers lightly across the brightly colored letters. "I'm afraid it's going to take a lot more than a party to cheer up Harry. We all need to be patient and supportive. He needs time Ron, time to get over all that has happened."
Even as she said these words, she knew it wasn't true. It was becoming more and more apparent to this experienced mother that Harry needed help, a kind of help that neither she, Arthur, nor her children could give.
~~~SH~~~
"Albus, you simply cannot let that poor boy go on like this, something has to be done; he needs help."
Dumbledore stood facing the windows staring out at the pitch as his meeting with Poppy, Molly and Arthur dragged on into the late hours of the afternoon.
They had discussed all of Harry's past and current troubles, reminding Albus yet again, how badly he had failed this young man.
He tuned out the voices behind him and envisioned the memory a very young and happy Harry, flying at break-neck speeds across the pitch. Then he thought of all the struggles Harry had faced since reentering the Wizarding world: the Chamber of Secrets, the Dementors, being abducted during the Third Task, the death of Cedric and then Sirius. All these things were culminating and taking their toll on the young wizard.
Albus turned to face those present and refocused his attention upon the discussion at hand. Just then, Molly asked Poppy if she had some potion that could help Harry.
"This is beyond my field of expertise," the Mediwitch replied. "I can heal his physical injuries, but not the depression."
"The Calming Draught you prescribed for him," added Arthur, "it seems to be helping with the nightmares."
"Harry's retina is almost completely healed now; soon I will take him off the draught. It would be logical to assume that shortly thereafter, the nightmares will resume. The draught only affects the symptoms; it can not cure the cause."
The Headmaster sighed and considered all that that had been discussed that afternoon.
Everyone's interactions with Harry during his stay in the infirmary and at the Burrow, combined with Arthur's rendition of what he had witnessed prior to the accident, all left little doubt that Harry was indeed not well.
The ambivalence and lack of appetite were all classic signs of depression; Dumbledore was at a loss as how best to proceed. "What do you suggest Poppy?"
"Counseling Albus; he needs counseling. You or I could contact St. Mungo's and arrange for a counselor to visit him at the Burrow."
Dumbledore turned to face the Weasleys; Arthur responded immediately. "Of course Albus, whatever he needs. We want Harry to be well and happy."
At that moment, Fawkes offered a soft and beautiful trill, as if voicing his agreement to what Arthur had just said.
Dumbledore and his Familiar silently regarded each other for a time, seemingly engaged in a private communication. Eventually, Albus laid a gentle hand upon the crimson bird and stated his decision. "Very well, I will contact St. Mungo's immediately and make arrangements for the very best counselor they can recommend."
~~~SH~~~
Molly and Arthur had been on pins and needles all afternoon. Trying to keep their nerves in check, each had engaged themselves in much needed distraction.
Arthur had chosen to play a game of Wizard's Chess with Ron, while Molly had taken to the kitchen and enlisted Ginny's help to make a treacle tart for Harry. When the flames in the Floo flared green, each parent just about jumped out of their skin.
"Hello … Molly? Arthur?"
Arthur went over to the Floo. "Hello Albus."
"May I come through? Is this a convenient time?"
"Oh yes, we've been waiting for you."
At those words, Ron and Ginny both turned to their parents in surprise. "We have? What are we waiting for?"
"Shhh, not now Ron. We'll tell you later," directed Molly.
"Tell us what?" asked Ginny.
She also received a "Shhh."
The flames flared green and Albus Dumbledore stepped gracefully from the Floo. "How are all of you this fine summer's eve?"
"We're fine, Albus. Would you like a nice cup of tea?"
"No thank you, Molly. I prefer to address the matter at hand." He looked around the kitchen, "So, where is Harry?"
"He's out back." Arthur pointed to the screen door.
Dumbledore offered a slight bow. "Well then, if you will excuse me?"
With that, the headmaster crossed the kitchen and stepped out onto the back porch, mindful not to let the screen door slam as it closed.
~~~SH~~~
It was a magnificent summer's eve. The still air was filled with heady scents from the abundant flowers that graced the garden. Dumbledore could see Harry a short distance away.
He was sitting on the grass at the edge of a knoll, leaning against one of the smooth round boulders, staring off into the distance.
Matching the young wizard's train of sight, Albus looked to his right and was greeted by a magnificent sunset. He allowed himself a few cherished moments to bathe in the tranquility of the glowing orange sun as it sank heavily into the far horizon.
But he had not come to the Burrow to enjoy the sunset. Bracing himself, Albus stepped off the porch and crossed the lawn. "Hello, Harry."
Startled at the unexpected voice, Harry turned quickly with his wand drawn. "Headmaster, I'm sorry, I..."
Dumbledore raised a hand. "Not to worry." He paused a moment at the sight of the thin and harried young man before him. "May I join you?"
"Uh ... sure." When it became apparent that the old wizard intended to sit upon the grass, Harry made to jump up in order to assist.
Again, Dumbledore raised his hand. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but I am still quite capable," he said in a lighthearted voice as he sat down and adjusted his purple and gold silk robes.
Albus took a deep breath and looked about the garden. "It seems you have the best seat in the house."
"Pardon?"
Dumbledore inclined his head toward the distant sunset.
"Yeah. I like it out here. It's quiet." The last bit of his sentence was no more than a whisper.
The two sat in silence and watched as the sun finished its decent. The orange sliver of light disappeared, gracing the sky with an encore of crimson hues. As the colors faded and the silence grew, Harry became a bit uncomfortable. What is the headmaster doing here?
As if reading his thoughts, Dumbledore spoke. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh fine, I guess. I'm alright."
"I am told you have been rather quiet as of late."
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Not much to say."
The old wizard paused before responding, intent on guiding the course of the conversation. "I see. And what of your injuries? How are they faring?"
"I'm fine ... really. Madame Pomfrey healed all of them."
The sage wizard picked at a few blades of grass, then responded in a soft and hesitant voice. "I think perhaps not."
"Excuse me?"
"Harry, if I may be so bold, I believe there is one injury that Madame Pomfrey…" He paused. "That everyone..." He paused again. "That I may have overlooked."
Harry stared at the old wizard, not knowing what in the world he was talking about.
Dumbledore slowly raised a hand and laid it gently upon the center of Harry's chest. "The injury I speak of … is here. It is the injury to your heart, the injury to your soul."
Harry felt as though Dumbledore's words struck him at his very core. All of a sudden, it seemed rather difficult to take a breath. He wanted to tell the old coot that he was wrong, that he, Harry, was indeed fine. But he couldn't.
Dumbledore looked at Harry intently and his gaze seemed to bore straight into that empty void where Harry had been residing for such a long time now.
Tears welled in his green eyes and his vision began to swim behind a sea of sadness. He lowered his head, trying valiantly to hide his weakness.
"Harry, listen to me. You have faced so many challenges in your short sixteen years, far more than anyone should face in an entire lifetime. You've faced these challenges with tremendous courage, but for as strong as you are, I believe the loss of Sirius was your breaking point. You have no cause to be ashamed. On the contrary, the shame and failure lies with me. I thought I had provided adequately for you and certain that you'd be well cared for. I obviously failed in that task and my failure has compounded over these past two months. My confidence in your resiliency has led to my own complacency with regards to your well being, and for that Harry, I apologize. To see you now, so lost and consumed with grief, what can I do but to try and rectify my past mistakes?"
Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder. "You deserved to have a wonderful childhood, to be loved and cherished; but that did not happen. You were tormented, just as you have been these past years. And what have I done to help you? Nothing more than cavalier decisions, confident that your tenacity would see you through all of these impossible situations and loses."
As Dumbledore continued to berate himself for his mistakes and praising Harry for his courage in the face of hardship, Harry was falling apart. A few months ago, Dumbledore had barely looked at him. Now he was articulating and giving voice to all that Harry had kept buried deep within his heart, truths he dared not face, and now these thruths were turning out to be a bit much to take.
One moment, his head was buried in his hands as he broke down, sobbing. The next moment, slight yet strong arms wrapped around him and all he could see, through his tears, was purple silk and gold crescent moons.
Watching as Harry succumbed to his grief, Albus had leaned forward and drew the weeping young man to him. He wrapped his arms around Harry and held onto him in a tight embrace. All his failures had been given voice, his regrets avowed. What mattered at this moment and for the foreseeable future was not Albus' failure, but Harry's healing. The old wizard sat quietly holding Harry, his cheek resting atop the wild mop of hair.
"My dear boy, all the losses you have endured have taken their toll upon you. You have been so brave and so courageous, trying to face these challenges alone. But they are too much. You need someone to help you sort through your sadness and your grief. That is why..." He tightened his embrace, "I want you to agree to receive counseling."
Harry had been crying so hard, he thought he misunderstood the Headmaster's last word. "Counseling?" Harry asked with a muffled voice.
"Yes, counseling."
Only then did Harry realize that Dumbledore was holding him. He pulled gently out of the embrace and wiped away his tears. "Headmaster, what exactly is counseling?"
"A counselor is a person trained to help individuals such as you. People who have been emotionally injured."
Harry didn't like the sound of this. "But ... what is it? How do they do that ... exactly?"
"To be perfectly honest my boy, I too was a bit fuzzy on the facts and have recently garnered an education regarding the matter. Counseling is a process of talking and discussion. I have been in contact with a number of counselors already, trying to locate the best one I could find for you."
"But who would be talking?"
"You would, Harry. You and your counselor would simply talk about the issues that you find upsetting."
This supposedly simple process didn't sound simple at all. Harry tended to hold things inside. Now he was supposed to talk about them — with a stranger? "I don't know about this Sir; I really don't like to talk about my ... well, my stuff."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "Harry, look at me ... please."
Harry did so.
"Do you like the way you have been feeling this summer?"
Harry slowly shook his head, no.
"I realize, that after my past failures toward you, I have absolutely no right to pose this request. But I am going to do it, because I do care for you and I want you to be happy."
He laid one of his hands upon Harry's. "I'm asking for you to please trust me in this matter, and agree to engage in counseling."
Dumbledore closed his fingers, squeezed Harry's hand and stared intently into searching green eyes.
Finally, Harry gave in. "Okay, I'll do it."
Dumbledore smiled. "Well done my boy, well done."
~~~SH~~~