Wow, Chapter 10. I know that's not a lot of chapters, but I feel just a smidge accomplished here. I wanted to take yet another moment to properly thank everyone for their support. It is so very appreciated, and it truly does make my day.

So a proper shout-out (Since I haven't taken the time to so far) to:

thenightowl57

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painted heart

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You guys are some true spots of sunshine, thank you so much for the reviews.

I hope you enjoy

~Ghostdoor

Chapter 10

November 1988

"You cannot defeat darkness by running from it, nor can you conquer your inner demons by hiding them from the world. In order to defeat the darkness, you must bring it into the light." Seth Adam Smith, Rip Van Winkle and the Pumpkin Lantern

November first blew through overcast and chilled, but Harry felt considerably lighter and relaxed compared to the previous day. He wasn't happy or cheerful, but smiles came easier during school. If he had to compare his emotional being to something physical, he would have to say a freshly cleaned chalkboard. He was ready to be written on with new words, new lessons for the next chapter.

Abigail had worried incessantly over him during lunch, asking where he had been the day before. Had he been sick? Was he too sad about Lenny leaving? Did something happen to Jo?

"I went to visit my parents'." He finally told her when she paused to breathe, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Your parents?" Abigail had tilted her head in confusion, her eyebrows drawn up. It was well known among their peers that Harry Potter does not have parents. Dudley Dursley had made sure everyone heard his taunting words about how Harry's parents had offed themselves, drunk in a car wreck. That's how Harry had gotten his scar.

"Well," he started, shifting uncomfortable, "I visited their graves for the first time. Jo took me." Abigail inspected him with narrowed eyes, nibbling on her apple slices while Harry continued inspecting his sandwich.

"Annnnd how was that?"

Harry shrugged, once again smiling timidly. "Good, I guess. I told them about you and Lenny, of course." He didn't tell her about yelling at them, or how he had cried. "It felt, well not good, but it made me feel better to finally visit them." Abigail had nodded in understanding, and for once, did not pester or 'put her nose where it didn't belong' as her second oldest sister always scolded her for. "Anything good happen yesterday?" Instantly, she launched into telling him all about the day's gossip.

David Wilks had tried flushing a turtle he had found outside the gate and flooded the boy's lavatory. Lenora Snyder had peed herself during a maths quiz, but no one else knew, so he had better not spread it around. Dudley had gotten himself sent to the Headmistress for copying another student's homework. Oh, and Marci Lamb had kissed Timothy Wells on the cheek after school! Of course, the final story was all about how her eldest sister had brought her boyfriend round to meet the family.

"He's such a stuffy pill. Who names their kid Bron? That's a name for one of those baddies in Lenny's comics. And he acts like one too! Really, he looked like he had smelled cat poo when my mum offered him to stay for dinner. I don't know what Amanda sees in someone like that." Harry laughed then, his first real laugh of the day, and nodded along, an appreciation for his friend warming him.

After school, even though she didn't ask, Harry walked Abigail all the way home. He unfortunately did not catch a glance of the baddy Bron, but he did get to meet her mother, Ayako Moss. She was a beautiful Japanese woman who spoke English very well. Abigail only had to translate or provide the correct word a couple times. She had smiled proudly when her mother complimented Harry on being a good friend and walking her 'Abby' home.

He had awkwardly accepted her invitation for tea. Uncomfortably, he kicked off his shoes and accepted a spare pair of slippers. Following Abigail through the house, he found himself openly staring at the Japanese scrolls and artwork. Although the exterior of the house perfectly mimicked the neighborhood, the inside felt as if he had stepped foot through a doorway in the world room right into Japan. Inside, the house was very open and modest, with a large set of sliding wooden doors beside the modern kitchen. Abigail whispered for him to remove his shoes before stepping on the tatami.

He found himself fumbling again, to the giggles of the five Moss girls, as he tried to follow Abigail's example. Blushing when their mother scolded them in her mother tongue, he let Abigail drag him down beside her at the low table already prepared for tea. He was then formally introduced to Abigail's four sisters, eldest to youngest: Amanda, Ami, Arisa, and Aneira. Then their mother had proudly patted her slightly swollen belly, declaring he could meet her son in a few months.

"Mama, you don't know it'll be a boy," Arisa laughed, pointing to her sisters. "More likely another girl to torture our father."

"A mother always knows, Arisa. Do not question a mother's intuition," Ayako nodded sagely with finality. The girls all smiled secretly to one another, but did not comment again. "And what of you, Potter-kun? Do you have any siblings?"

An hour later, culture shocked and 'girl-ed' out for the day, Harry finally bid his farewell and ran home. Apologizing profusely to Jo and Poppy for being late, he finally felt himself relax when the former waved it off with a small smile, and Poppy enthusiastically shoved a plate under his nose. He told them all about the Moss family and their home. Jo and Poppy listened attentively, peppering him with a few questions. Jo suggested perhaps they should buy the Moss family a gift, telling him it was proper (In Japan) to bring a gift as thanks for allowing him into the house. Harry blushed in embarrassment, hoping he hadn't insulted the family with his lack of a gift.

"Obviously, Mrs. Moss wasn't too worried, but we should still send something to show your gratitude properly." Jo shrugged then, pouring herself a small amount of whiskey into a tumbler while Poppy clucked her tongue. "I wanted to show you something, by the way. Once you're done with your homework, come up to the third floor."

Harry wrinkled his nose, already pulling his work from the messenger bag. "The floor with all the books?"

Jo shot him a couple finger guns with a playful smirk. "Tha's the one. Be there or be square." Then she was gone, the great dane and small terrier on her heels as she vanished through the vines. Rolling his eyes with a smile, Harry turned to start on his homework as Poppy cleaned the kitchen.

Jo lounged in a large comfortable recliner, the muggle chair having been a favorite of her grandfather's in his old age. "Bless those muggles and their imaginations," he had sighed once, sipping on an old muggle-brand whiskey. Merlin knows he had spent many nights in this exact chair, spinning tales of old before her eyes, encouraging her explorations into the wild. Merlin knows how many nights he had spent in this exact chair, being scolded by her mother for filling her head with such fantasies. He would always wink at her, smiling secretly with her and reassuring her that Dabria was merely being a stuffy old witch who had lost her sense of adventure.

Her soul felt old in this room, sitting in this chair, staring at the world tree painted on the wall. It was too large, after centuries of her family's procreation. She had 'scrolled' it up, so that it stopped at her own name and that of her cousins. Draining her glass, she poured herself yet another.

Finally, she head Harry yell her name, and she called out her location. He appeared through the vines, confused, but smiling lightly once he saw her. She beckoned him in, and he sat on one of the many lounge chairs. "This used to be my Grandfather Julius's favorite room. He called it the 'family' room," she indicated the mural of the tree with a blank face. "For obvious reason, the title stuck. Presumptuous of us to use that tree, I know, but," she shrugged in a 'What can you do?' style. "There it is. The entire Delacroix family. All of my ancestors from me all the way back to the first record of our line."

She waved her hand, causing the tree to begin scrolling rapidly all the way to the top, where a picture of a man and woman sat, the very beginning of her line. Their names were Merlin and Niviane. Harry watched with wide eyes as she scrolled the tree back down, stopping once again at her generation. "Wizards…"Jo began slowly, pausing to once again sip at her tumbler. "Are very keen on remembering their bloodline, usually with family trees of a sort and many records. Purebloods, which is what my family and your father's family are considered, are very arrogant and obsessive over knowing their entire family history."

Jo sighed, causing Harry to look at her in confusion again as she re-righted her chair into a proper sitting position. "Remember that old witch yesterday?"

"The scary old lady?"

"Yup, that's the one." She waved her wand, summoning the now enlarged box from the desk. "She gave me this. I gave it a once over, just to make sure there weren't any surprises. It's for you." She let the box down gently in front of him, waving for him to open it.

Harry gave Jo another curious glance before gently opening the cardboard flaps. Inside, at the very top of a large stack of books and rolls of parchment, was one leather black book stamped with a seal of a shield topped with a knight's helmet. The name 'Potter' engraved in gold along the cover. "Is this…" He opened the top book, reading the name Linfred of Stinchcombe 'The Potterer'. "This is my family history, isn't it?," He asked excitedly as he began thumbing through the small journal. Jo just smiled, nodding along as he dug out the next book. This one was dedicated to a man named Hardwin.

"Well, this is the family room. I figured it's the best place for your own family history to be kept safe." Harry looked up in surprise, smiling even wider when she indicated the empty book case behind him. "If you would like, we can begin building your family's record keeping here."

"I-I would really like that."

"Perfect, well why don't we start shelving these bad boys." She went to wave her wand, but Harry stopped her, blushing when she raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

"I'd rather do it, y'know," he shrugged, picking up a book and walking it over to the shelves, gently placing it in its new home. "Feel like I'm respecting them more, this way."

Standing with a groan of exhaustion, Jo gave him a smirk as she levitated the box closer to the bookcase. "Fine, be a Gryffindor about it. Leave one out, though. Figure we can start reading them tonight, yeah?"

For the following two weeks, Harry found himself smiling and laughing every day more and more. His school days were always good. Without Dudley looming over him, he found school to be a lot more pleasant of an experience. After school, he would walk Abigail home. Her older sisters always made kissy faces and giggled at them, causing Abigail to scowl and yell at them. He just always blushed and ruffled his hair in embarrassment until he could leave. Her mother had given him an uncomfortably tight hug and kissed his cheek when he presented her with his gift of tea biscuits and chocolate covered berries.

The best part of every day, though, was when he and Jo would settle on his bed at the end of each night and read one of the Potter journals. Linfred of Stinchcombe, the first record of his line, had been a potioneer. His eldest son, Hardwin, had been a magical historian. Jo had made a strange choking noise when she read about his wife, Lolanthe Peverell. She had explained the Peverells were an old family the rest of the wizarding world had believed died out. Obviously, Harry was one of the last with their blood in his veins.

As he walked Abigail home that day, he couldn't help the excitement at returning home. Jo had promised they could go flying today. He had gotten much better on the broom, and she had promised to release some of the restriction to allow him another three feet of height. Plus, they would be starting on a new journal tonight.

"Did I tell you that Lenny called me last night?" Abigail asked, skipping through the puddles and splashing mud all over her white knee-high socks. "He said his mum had found a job at his new school as a secretary, and they should be able to find their own place soon. Said his cousins are all loud and won't leave his things alone, too, so I'm sure he's excited to have a quiet room all to himself."

Harry chuckled, thinking their quiet friend would definitely prefer that. "Make sure you get his address then. I haven't gotten a letter from him yet, maybe I should send one first?" Abigail nodded, but didn't respond. She had focused on something up ahead, a scowl tugging deeply at her lips.

"Looks like Baddy Bron is here." She huffed greatly, her skips turning into stomps as they neared her house. Harry squinted his eyes, trying to make out the lanky boy entwined with her sister Amanda. He could see the other two sisters in the doorway, making faces at the distracted pair. "See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Yeah, see you." Harry turned away quickly, hoping to escape any embarrassment from her sisters' antics today. He caught Abigail's disgust laced 'Oy, no one wants to see that!' before he started jogging across the road. He didn't stop the accelerated pace until number 6, Sanitatum Drive finally came into view.

Bursting through the door, he took the stairs two at a time with a growing smile as he ran to the kitchen. He nearly fell through the vines in his excitement, earning a surprised squeak from Poppy. "Good afternoon, Poppy." The she-elf wagged her finger at him good-naturedly before returning to her cooking. "Hello, Young Harry. How was yous school today?"

"Good, I got full marks on my maths quiz!"

"Oh, that be wonderful! Poppy will make treacle tart for after dinner!"

Finally, Harry took notice of Jo's lack of presence. Taffy, as he had named the labrador who seemed to always find him, was the only dog in the kitchen. He smiled brightly, leaning down to give her a strong scratch behind the ears. "Hullo, Taffy. Did you miss me?" She wiggled under his attention, her mouth opening in a doggy smile as she gave one affirmative woof. Even though he was used to their presence, Taffy was the only dog he had become comfortable with. Which, seeing as she had quickly taken on the role of his second shadow, seemed to be best. "Where's Jo, girl? She's usually here when I come home."

"Oh, Mistress says she not be feeling well, Young Harry. She says she be staying in her room today," Poppy squeaked, hoping her voice didn't sound strained. Her tongue tasted like ash as the lie fell from her lips. Her Mistress had actually disappeared some time during the morning and had not returned until nearly an hour ago, falling down drunk. She had snapped at Poppy to leave her be and disappeared within her bedroom. The elf thought it best to keep Young Harry away until her Mistress sobered. "Young Harry should wash his hands before dinner."

Harry looked disappointed by Jo's missing presence, meaning he wouldn't be flying today. With a pout, he nodded and went off to wash his hands and change from his school clothes. Taffy, the ever loyal hound, trotted after him.

Poppy tried to cheer him up during dinner, even offering to supervise his flying if he wished. He had just shaken his head, saying it was something he liked to do with Jo. After dinner and his celebratory treacle tart, which didn't taste nearly as good as usual, he retired to his bedroom to begin his homework.

The next morning, Jo wasn't in the kitchen, and she didn't appear during the hour before Harry had to leave for school. For the first time since he had arrived, Harry walked by himself to school. Abigail had noticed his pouty demeanor instantly, pestering him until he finally told her that Jo was sick. She said her sister Aneira was home that day with the flu, maybe Jo had caught the bug. Her mother had forced soup and herbal tea down her throat. Perhaps he should make Jo some soup? Maybe her mum had some left that he could have.

When he returned home that evening, with a container of soup, he was surprised to see Jo slumped over the table in the muggle house. She had looked up at him with glassy and red eyes, groaning an unintelligible response and promptly laid her head back on the table. He had given her a shake, suggesting she go to bed, but she didn't stir again. Concerned, he had ran up the stairs to find Poppy. The elf had sighed, clucking her tongue with a frustrated expression and disappeared. When she reappeared in the kitchen, she reassured him that Jo was in bed, and she would take her dinner in a little while.

They didn't read together that night either.

This pattern continued for the next seven days. On the third day, Harry finally realized that Jo was not sick. She was drunk. The few occasions he did see her over those days, she always had cold words for Poppy and told him to leave her be. Even her dogs had stopped surrounding her after she had lashed out and screamed for them to leave her alone.

"You know Lenny's dad," Harry started, pushing his peas around his lunch tray. "Do you think he always beat him when he drank?"

Abigail gave him a strange look at his question, putting her fork down with more force than necessary. "What kind of question is that?"

Harry gave her a frown, putting his own spoon down. "Do you think he was always that way or do you think he changed the longer he drank?"

Something, perhaps in his eyes or his expression, made Abigail realize that Harry had a very real reason to be wondering about such a terrible thing. She gave him another deep frown, shrugging as she pulled her bag up onto the table. "I don't know, really. But-" She trailed off, rooting through the chaos of paper and books. With a little 'Ah-ha', she uncrumpled and flattened the pamphlet they had been given weeks ago at the 'SAY NO' assembly. "Maybe this will help?" They both leaned over the paper, reading the paragraph about alcoholism.

Alcoholism or Alcohol use disorder is a potentially fatal disease, characterized by cravings, tolerance (needing more), physical dependence, and loss of control over consuming alcohol. Alcohol intoxication may or may not be obvious to observers. Even in highly functional alcohol abusers, chronic alcoholism can lead to physical problems. Most common is damage to your liver, which over time can lead to cirrhosis (scarred liver). Other risks include depression, stomach bleeds, pancreatitis, high blood pressure, heart failure, numbness and tingling in your feet and changes in your brain. Alcoholism can also increase your risk for infections including pneumonia, tuberculosis, and chronic gastritis.

"My mum said Lenny's dad is what's called an Alcoholic," Abigail said quietly, realizing that Harry, who looked horrified by the pamphlet, definitely had a really bad reason to be asking about this. She wanted to ask him who it was that he was worried about, but she never got the chance as they're lunch ended. Harry had basically sprinted from the room, looking both sick and angry. She decided they could discuss it after school.

Poppy sighed deeply, vanishing the puke from her Mistress' bed and sending the sheets out of the room. As she began dressing the bed in clean linen, ears low and drooping, her mind wondered as to where her Mistress could have gone. Since the first day of this current binge, she had remained home. Poppy was not ignorant, she knows what today is, what memory this date holds, but she didn't know where her Mistress could have gone. She had already checked every floor of the house, even the yard. Next, she had gone to the graveyard, but her Mistress was not among the people there. Then she had gone to Miss Katherine's. She hadn't seen or heard from her Mistress since October.

Her Mistress was drunk, sad, and missing. Poppy's only hope now was that her Mistress would summon her or come home before Young Harry returned. The elf had, rather naively, hoped he would be enough to keep her Mistress semi-controlled when this day came. It seems that had been a foolhardy wish.

She continued on with her daily chores, her nerves itching with each hour that passed without a sign of her Mistress. Finally, the clock chimed, signaling it was time for her to start dinner. Which meant Young Harry would be home very soon. Her heart hurt as she thought of the increasingly melancholy boy. What would she tell him today? She knew he had realized her Mistress was not sick. Even still, she did not know how to explain the witch's disappearance. She decided, unless he specifically asked, all she would say is that her Mistress was out.

Hopefully, after today, they would return to normal.

"Is it Jo?" Abigail had whispered the question, but it sounded like a booming echo in his own head. He nodded grimly, kicking a rock along as they walked. "Has…has she hurt you?"

"No," he shook his head, almost insulted she would ask such a thing. Until he remembered Lenny's dad. "No, she's never done anything to me. She's just been drunk for the last week. I mean, she always drinks, but usually at night." He shrugged, thinking maybe he wasn't supposed to say that. "Maybe I'm just over thinking it, you know, after Lenny's dad."

Abigail didn't look convinced. "You should tell someone if it gets worse." Harry started to shake his head. "No, listen. Lenny was lucky, he had his Mum there to take him away. You don't have someone else, right?" Harry looked angry, but shook his head that, no, he didn't have someone else. "Then you have to tell someone if it gets worse. Okay?"

Sighing, Harry ruffled his hair and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Promise me, Harry." She stopped walking, jabbing her hand towards him with her pinky held out. "Promise me you'll tell." She stared him down, her jaw jutting out stubbornly as her big blue eyes swam with concern. Harry gave her a serious nod and shook her pinky with his. "I promise."

"Good."

Jo stared into the black and frothing waters way down below. She had learned her lesson, falling and swaying too much to remain unbothered, and had sat herself on the wet planks of wood. It was raining, drizzling now, but the storming had caused the water to foam and bulk violently. The waves crashed against the thin legs of the pier. She thought the water matched her mind, chaotic and dark.

A dark part of her, the piece that usually went away when she drank, was whispering it wouldn't be so bad if she just…jumped. It's only a little way, it whispered. She agreed, the water wasn't actually that far. It would be cold, though. Plus, she wasn't that great of a swimmer, especially drunk. You don't really need to swim, though. You could just let the waves carry you.

She didn't know why she came here. Every year, she ended up on this pier, contemplating looking at the ocean floor. Every year, she ended up alive and breathing at home. It was the curse, she knew. It wouldn't let her jump. Won't let her leave. She chuckled dryly, taking a long drink from the bottle in a brown bag. Why did she come back here?

"Because this is where we met." That's what he said all those years ago, down on one knee in the snow.

Right, she thought. This is the only place she could go. She wasn't allowed to visit their final resting place. It felt like she had cried enough tears today to fill the ocean twice over, but it seems her eyes weren't done yet. His coffee colored eyes and coal hair, that crooked smiled with his jagged tooth just encouraged the fresh wave of tears.

They had come back here once after that day. Stupid and young, they wanted a picture with their new little family on the place where it all began. It had been nice that day, full of people. She could still remember the old gentleman, his bowler hat and salt and pepper mustache that devoured his upper lip. He had smiled brightly when they asked if he would mind ever so much to take their picture.

She had hidden it away, with all the others, in a sealed box under the floorboards of the muggle house.

Her tears felt cold yet hot as they trailed over her skin and dripped from her chin, falling down down down to feed the raging ocean below. She watched as each drop disappeared into the foam. You could jump, the darkness whispered again. "Oh, shut up. We both know that's bullshit."

The sun had begun to set. Even in the cloudy, despair ridden sky, she supposed it looked pretty. It irritated her. Nothing was supposed to be pretty or nice or good today. Today was meant to be filled with tears and ugly and bad. All the bad she pushed down down down inside.

She drank from the bottle again, hoping it would make the sun look as ugly as her soul.

Harry heard the moment Jo came home. She had crashed in her landing from the portkey, slumping against the wall with a grunt of frustration. He fiddled with the paper in his hands, taking a deep breath as nervousness and anger warred against each other inside his stomach. When he heard the crash of glass being broken, the anger began to win out. Standing on shaky knees, he left the little table to find her still slumped against the stairs.

"Jo."

She grunted, lolling her head around to stare at him with a blank face. "What are you still doing up?" Her voice was cold and flat, and her words slurred.

"I was waiting for you to come home. I thought you might want to read with me tonight." Harry tried not to flinch under her dead eyes. She didn't respond, except for another grunt. "Where've you been? Poppy and I were worried."

Jo snorted, smirking ever so slightly. "That's none of your concern. As for Poppy, she knows better than to worry. Especially today."

"What's today?" Harry could tell he was toeing the line of Jo being reasonable when her eyes narrowed. She exhaled loudly through her nose, like a bull. "What's so special about today that you get to disappear and-"

"That is none of your damn business," Jo snarled, her blue eyes turning crystalline with rage.

Harry felt his shoulders begin to rise, but held himself firm. When he opened his mouth, Jo snarled again and pushed off the wall. Remaining silent, Harry watched as she wobbled and used the wall to support herself as she moved past him. "You haven't been around much, Jo. Poppy said you were sick, but I knew you were just drunk. You're the one that said we're family. If I'm really your family, then I deserve to know what's going on!"

"You don't understand anything about this. You're a child, stop putting your nose in adult business," she snarled, whipping around drunkenly to glare at the small boy. Harry glared back, those green eyes like fire as his hands curled into fists and his shoulders rose around his ears. For the first time in his life, he could recognize and feel the magic flowing in his veins, responding to his anger.

"I know enough." He declared stubbornly, that small adolescent voice strong and unwavering as he planted himself strongly in front of her. At that moment, he looked just like James Potter before he was about to yell at her for being an asshole . And for some reason, that just pissed her off even more.

She chuckled cruelly, humorlessly smirking down at him. "Please do tell, kid." She waved sarcastically, giving him the floor.

Harry felt anger burn through his veins at her mocking tone. She was being cruel and mean. Just like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, just like Lenny's dad. Beneath his raging anger and indignation, the heavy stone of disappointment dropped in his stomach. "You're just like all the rest," Harry sneered, and Jo blinked in surprise. She had never seen him make such a face. "Cold, cruel, and mean. Treating people terribly because you're upset. Unhappy all the time, but you try to hide it behind mean words and ignoring everyone. You drink your alcohol, just like Lenny's dad. An alcoholic, that's what Abigail said he was. I got a pamphlet about people like you, and what drinking does to your body. I always thought you were sick, I just never knew it was you choosing to be sick." The crumpled and obviously well-read pamphlet landed at her feet. 'SAY NO', printed in large red ink, stared back at her.

"You don't come to breakfast anymore. You're usually too hung-over when I come home from school to even speak to me. You snap at Poppy and the dogs all the time. You don't take me flying or want to read those books you gave me at night anymore." Harry's voice started to grow quiet, he felt pathetic admitting her lack of presence was hurting him. "You don't even walk me to school anymore. You've done that every day since I came here."

Jo felt ashamed, how could she not, when an eight year old was literally laying all of her transgressions at her feet. He looked so hurt. She wanted to apologize, to fall down and grovel at his feet for forgiveness.

But another part of her, the darkness the alcohol usually kept at bay, was creeping back in. It had felt stronger, more alluring, than ever before. It was whispering to her, consoling her from the strong words cutting into her heart. He's only a boy, he doesn't understand. You've lost so much, yet here he is demanding more of you? Demanding all of your care and attention. Demanding you to give even more of what little bit of self you have left?

"I doubt me walking you to school is that important. No one ever did before," Jo scoffed again, taking a sip from her flask. "Don't act like that's a crime now."

Harry looked like he had struck been stuck. "THAT'S BECAUSE NO ONE EVER TRIED TO BEFORE! YOU-" Tears streamed heavily from his eyes, and he shook his head aggressively. "You're being an arsehole, Jo."

"Don't talk like you're an adult." Jo snapped at him. "And don't sit here and think you can lecture me on what I am or am not doing. You're the kid, here. What, you don't like me anymore? You don't like living here anymore? Realized maybe you should've stayed with those fucking muggles? The ones who beat you and treated you like dirt?"

"AT LEAST THEY DIDN'T PRETEND TO CARE!"

"FUCKING EXCUSE ME?! I AM NOT PRETENDING TO CARE ABOUT YOU!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU BEING THIS WAY?! WHY ARE YOU DRINKING AND DISAPPEARING AND TREATING US LIKE THIS?!"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING ABOUT THIS, KID!"

"BECAUSE YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!"

Two things happened then as they glared at each other, words made of fire ready to be spat back and forth. First, Jo's flask flew from her hand and lodged itself into the front door, and then, the little table they usually sat at exploded into small wooden splinters. Harry let out a yell, crumbling into a ball to hide from the loud noise. Jo just stumbled against the wall with wide-eyes. Her magic felt like a rock slide inside, tumbling and fighting to explode from within her. Her drunken mind tried to contain it, shocked by the exploding table that she had caused, but she could feel the magic beginning to seep from her pores. She had just enough sense left to shield the kid with a well placed protection shield.

Then all hell truly broke loose.

A bright yellow light erupted from the drunk witch, her magic manifesting itself around her in jagged waves and explosions as she screamed. "POPPY! GET HARRY AWAY, NOW!" Her words quickly turned into ear jarring guttural screams. The small elf appeared with a pop, her large grey eyes wide and fearful as she tried to get through the maelstrom of magical winds and over the shifting floor to the small boy. Harry looked on in a shocked awe, equally fearful yet amazed by the feeling of Jo's raw magic convulsing around him.

Jagged columns of earth began shooting up through the floor, spiking into the ceiling and walls. Pictures began falling and smashing onto the ground as the walls shook. A water pipe from below the house came through with the invading earth, blasting water everywhere in the den. The glass in the windows began to crack and shatter as the house groaned under the magical chaos. Through this all, Jo screamed and screamed and screamed; her eyes unseeing as she held her head within her hands, face pressed against the floor.

Poppy finally reached the boy, disapparating him instantly to the safety of the magical household above. The sudden quiet shocked them both, disorienting the two small beings. Falling to a heap on the floor, Harry gasped in a breath, realizing he hadn't been able to breathe under the pressure of Jo's magic. "Poppy!" The small elf squeaked, sitting up and rubbing her head. Her mistress's magic had given her a migraine. "Poppy, we have to help Jo!"

Harry tried to stand, but stumbled, falling back to his bum as he clumsily scrambled back into a crawling position. "Jo needs help!," he yelled, seeing the elf hadn't moved. Poppy looked dazed, still rubbing her head with glazed eyes. "Mistress…" The elf's grey eyes sharpened suddenly and she focused on the small boy. "Mistress said to get Young Harry out. Poppy must keep Young Master safe."

"B-but Jo-" Harry felt his heart beating against his chest, loud and fast, and he breathed quickly as panic finally set in. "Jo's gonna get hurt! Poppy-"

"No, Young Harry," Poppy snapped with authority. Harry froze instinctively, still trying to crawl back towards the stairs. "Mistress must control her magic, Young Harry. She can not do's this with us interferings." Poppy looked widely at the staircase when a large rock exploded through the top stairs. "Mistress will control it." She snapped her fingers, and the staircase suddenly disappeared, replaced by a large door Harry had never seen before. She had closed the veil. Her mistress will remain trapped to the muggle house until her magic exhausted itself or she regained control.

"P-Poppy," fear began to set in for Harry as his panic began to subside. "Wh-what's happening to Jo?"

The elf could see the boy's fear, and she could understand his question went beyond the explosion of magic they had witnessed. She shuffled closer to the boy, reaching out to grip his hand within her own, trying to squeeze comfort through her fingers. "My Mistress is at war with herself. Sh-" The boy looked surprised by the large crocodile tears that formed in the she-elf's eyes. He had never seen Poppy upset enough to cry. "She must fix her broken pieces, Young Harry. Her heart, mind, and magic are not in sync no more."

"But why?" Poppy looked torn, crying and sniffling, as she bit her lip in contemplation.

"Because Mistress lost herself when she lost her loved ones in the war, Young Harry. My Mistress went to war, and her body comes back, but not her soul. That not be the Mistress Poppy raised." The she-elf stopped then, to keep herself from revealing too much without her Mistress's permission, and because she had the sudden urge to sob and wail. Her Mistress's distressed magic could be felt through their bond, and it hurt the small elf's heart. It made her small body feel heavier and older as she willed herself to take Young Harry back to the kitchen for hot chocolate.

Jo laid panting on the floor, in the center of the wreckage and chaos she had committed. Her throat felt shredded and raw, and her eyes were swollen nearly shut. She tried to lick her chapped and split lips, but there was no moisture on her tongue. Her magic had burned the alcohol from her system. The cold icy fingers of the darkness had clawed its way across her chest, leaving her chilled and shaking. Her entire body hurt. It felt weak and useless. She was sure she couldn't even lift a finger in that moment.

More than the physical pain, her heart was plagued with the weight of shame and guilt. Regret for her harsh words and actions. A tear burned its way across her eyelid and down the raw skin of her cheek. Drawing another shaky breath, she let her and Harry's words roll around her brain, dissecting each syllable for the words they had left unspoken.

She had hurt him. Disappointed him. She had broken her promises. She was still broken, even more of a disaster than when he had first appeared in this house. His life was probably worse now. She had cared about him, then tossed it right back in his face. That was even worse than anything the Dursley's had ever done. Her face burned with more fire-laced tears at the realization that she was a monster, actually. It was a bit ironic, she thought, that after the happiest few weeks of her life in nearly eight years, she had drastically gone in the exact opposite direction of fixing herself or him. "I'm a fucking mess." Merlin, her voice sounded like a dying bullfrog with dragonpox. "A fucking piece of living shit in skin."

Broken and useless on the floor, her magic betraying her and nearly bringing down the house. She couldn't help but think this is exactly what she deserved. Now, the kid knew exactly how destroyed she was, unreliable and useless. He still didn't understand, but that was her own fault. Just like he said, she hadn't explained anything to him. She hid it all in her bottles, even from herself. How could she describe to him the pain she forced herself to forget?

Poppy had retrieved her sometime later, biting her tongue as her Mistress sobbed and shook on the floor. She commanded Poppy to just leave her, she deserved to stay here. In the destruction she had caused. With a self-deprecating smirk and hollow laugh, she mumbled that the house finally resembled her soul.

Poppy slapped her, probably as hard as her little body could, but Jo was numb to the physical pain of it. She still felt the shame, though. Finally, she relented, and let the elf apparate them to her bedroom. The elf forced a dreamless sleep potion down her throat, and she was dead to the world. Poppy stayed at her side, cleaning the tear marks and dirt from her face as she cried for her Mistress. She had sent Young Harry to bed already, slipping a drop of the sleeping potion in his hot chocolate as well. When she was finally calm and satisfied with her Mistress' clean face, she left her side.

And promptly dumped all of the alcohol in the house down the sink.