A/N thanks to BarbaraPotter for all your advice. I'm replacing those chapters with the uncorrected grammar very shortly. I have a beta now, who is working with me on that. I really have appreciated your kind reviews. I do live in Hamilton, so it's neat to see you here as well! I really look forward to hearing from you again! I also post at a site called SIYE and Wizardtales, and I have short stories there as well as one shots. I have a challenge story up at those sites and have one that received honourable mention at SIYE called, Five More Minutes. You have a good eye, so if you ever get a chance, I'd love to hear what you think of the other short stories I have written. You are a teacher? You may enjoy joining then. Many of our members are teachers and even Professors at Universities, and they come from all over the world. We also have a nice chat group going there now, as well as a forum. The site is new and has very good writers contributing to it. The stories there are very well written for the most part.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It means so much to me! If you have time, please remember to review, even if it's short, just to let me know you're still reading. I would really appreciate it! I'd like to thank everyone personally, but it is not allowed on this site. Thanks to my beta Bowtrunckle, who will be starting to go over this story for me so I can replace flawed chapters soon. PLEASE REVIEW
It was very difficult to explain the relationship between himself and Mrs Figg to Ginny. Babysitter was wrong, but Harry didn't want to present her as the uncaring bat that he was dumped on when the Dursleys had better things to do. She had never treated him poorly, but she was restricted in levels of kindness she could show him, so he could quite truthfully introduce her as his neighbour, though Ginny had already been introduced to 'Professor Figg,' new Muggle Studies Professor.
Despite never having shown Harry much affection in Privet Drive, Arabella's eyes grew noticeably teary when she opened her private chamber's door to find he and Ginny standing there hand in hand.
"Oh, Mr Potter," she cried, inviting them in to sit, and bustling around making them tea without asking whether or not they wanted any. "I've had updates on your condition of course, but to see you, standing here, cane in hand..."
Harry wasn't surprised to see that she had brought all of her beloved cats along, even though she had tripped over one years ago, breaking her leg. "I never expected to be asked to teach here at Hogwarts, but I think dear old Professor Dumbledore, knowing I'm a squib, feels that I'm safer here. Really wish I could've done more for you Harry. I did contact the Order the minute I saw you flying off in a rage during the storm. Dumbledore said at least my telling them that, saved him time in looking for you at the Dursleys." Maybe Mrs Figg had played a bigger role in saving Harry's life than he had ever thought possible, with her being a squib and all.
Mrs Figg continued."I knew something was up with them tornadoes. Not normal here, that ain't. I says to those Dursleys, you better come to my house, since yours is being torn apart. My house was fairing just grand in the storms so far at this point. First, they were going to decline. Seems it was fine for you to come, but it was too low class for them, that is until their roof came off, and then they saw my wisdom."
"The minute they got into my house, WHAM!" Arabella hollered, smacking the table with her hand dramatically. "Their whole house was in tatters. I offered them tea. They refused." she added, not understanding the decline. "Your aunti didn't like my Snookums and Pokey here." She pointed to two large grey tabbies with huge blue eyes. The Dursleys would most likely have been dead if not for Mrs Figg, and a small, very deep part of him, wished she had just let it happen, but then if he had to go back there next summer...
Harry cringed at the very thought, not just about having to go back, but at the fact that he had these unsettling feelings about the Dursleys, even if they were very deep down in his mind. He knew he didn't really want them dead, but just to be rid of them forever, and yeah maybe seeing Uncle Vernon have to muck out stalls of animals for a living and seeing Aunt Petunia living in a one room flat, would be worth a look. He didn't know how he felt about Dudley now.
"Er...Mrs Figg, I don't think I've ever thanked you for looking after me when I was little, so thanks for that..." Mrs Figg's eyes watered even more. She didn't know what to say.
"Try these dear, I made them myself," Mrs Figg said, offering around strawberries covered in cream and chocolate. Ginny, who had a weakness for chocolate accepted immediately. Harry, who had a very distinct memory of everything Mrs Figg ever offering him, tasting slightly old and dusty, declined.
"Mmm," Ginny sighed, reaching for another, pleasing Mrs Figg immensely. "You've got to try one of those, Harry," she insisted, popping one up to Harry's mouth before he could say no, and Harry thought that even if they were hideous, there was something very pleasing about the thought of Ginny feeding him a strawberry from her hand, and she was right, they were delicious.
"I couldn't very well feed you gourmet. If your Aunt and Uncle found out, they would never have left you with me," Mrs Figg said sadly, and Harry now knew how seriously Mrs Figg had taken her job. She had alerted the Order of trouble at Number Four, hastening his departure from there on more then one occasion. Harry became more grateful to her by the minute, as she filled them in on her work as an observer of Harry James Potter. Harry was praying that Mrs Figg would stop short of telling Ginny about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his relatives. Ron knew some of it, but no one knew everything.
Just as Mrs Figg's face lit up when Harry popped another Strawberry into his mouth, Harry noticed something. There, on the mantle, in an old round frame with bowed glass, was Harry's stallion picture. For a second, Harry was seven again. Old emotions came bubbling to the surface, when they'd been buried for a very long time. She kept it, all these years...
Relieved that Harry's subsequent shock and silent stare had nothing to do with her refreshments, Mrs Figg asked him what was wrong.
'N...nothing, Mrs Figg," Harry stammered, staring at the picture and thinking resentfully of Aunt Petunia. Mrs Figg followed his gaze.
"Oh, I hope you don't mind, dear. I felt very badly about your Aunt Petunia's having thrown it away," she lamented. "I thought...well, I thought, dear, that if one day, you were killed by He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named, she would have regrets, and wish she'd kept it. Now I know..." Mrs Figg finished, sadly. "I hope it didn't upset you to see it, dear."
It hadn't upset Harry in a way she would have thought about. Harry knew he should never have brought Ginny here. She was looking at him in a whole different light, or at least he felt she was. Ginny for her part, would have liked nothing more than to inform the Dursleys that Harry was so wanted in the wizarding world, or anywhere else for that matter, that anyone would have been honoured to have that picture.
"That was kind of you Mrs Figg," Harry said warmly, but feeling a bit disconcerted by her honest answer.
"Of course, I kept all those candy dishes you made out of modelling clay, that I gave you to occupy your time with at my house as well." Mrs Figg pointed out a large china cabinet, full of flat, slightly indented pieces of unpainted pottery. Ginny went to have a better look.
"Ooh, look Harry. Come here. This one's still got your little finger print in the clay," she said, thoroughly impressed by something Harry would normally have never shown her. "Can I take one out for a better look?" she asked as though she were looking at something from a famous art gallery.
"Sure, but mind be careful. There aren't many left that old Mundungus didn't mistake for an ashtray before I told him off," she explained.
Harry laughed out loud, as a flood of memories came sweeping back to him, and as he recalled, many of these, 'works of art,' were in fact, ashtrays, but Harry didn't have the heart to tell her the difference. He had made one of them for Uncle Vernon's expensive cigars, but never had the nerve to give it to him for fear of the typical rejection. He felt like he was in the Harry Potter museum. The only remains of Harry's life before the age of eleven when he started Hogwarts, were all right here in this room...and so was Ginny.
Aunt Petunia had never been sentimental about Harry. She had saved all of Dudley's special baby clothes and special art work. Once Harry, a smaller baby by far, had outgrown the items from Dudley, there was nothing left of them.
All of this was very bitter sweet, as Harry placed his sixteen year old thumb, into the thumb print of the seven year old Harry Potter. He had never known that these things existed before now. For a long time, no one said anything, as Harry touched every piece of pottery, which Mrs Figg had dated after each visit. Some of them went all they way back to when he was just four years old.
"If you're interested in these, I believe Minerva McGonagall has some of your old report cards from your Muggle school days," she informed him. Harry felt overwhelmed. He had never been able to give his mother or father a single thing growing up. His mind floated back to the memory that had come to him on the operating table when he lay between life and death, his mother singing to him. He couldn't make out the words, but he pictured her smile, and wondered what it would have felt like to have given her a dandelion from the lawn, like children do, mistaking the weed for flowers, and having his mother happily place it in a vase, or drinking glass, happy because it was from her child. He had seen a neighbour child do this, and his mother accepted the dandelion like it was a dozen long stemmed red roses. He didn't know why his mind was working this way now.
Ginny did not press him, nor did Mrs Figg. You know Harry, if you want any of these mementos as a memory..." she offered, making sure to let him know that she cherished the items still.
"I...I don't know. Maybe they're better off where they are," he sighed. What would a sixteen year old with no family do with such items? Ginny had an idea, but she would not interfere. This was hard enough for Harry.
After the pleasant, but guarded visit on Harry's part ended, Ginny and Harry were walking down the corridor, when Harry stopped suddenly. "Ginny, can you wait for me here? I forgot something," he asked.
Madame Pomfrey had warned that under no circumstances was Harry to be left alone outside the Hospital Wing, lest he fall or something come up, but looking Harry in the eyes, Ginny knew he needed some privacy, so she agreed, listening for his footsteps up the hall. Harry was gone for ten minutes before catching back up, and Ginny couldn't imagine what had taken so long. Harry's quiet thoughtful demeanor told her that she would not find out, at least for now. Ginny also knew that she and Harry were at a very new step, a step that even she wasn't sure what level it was at. She would wait.
Harry's old sense of being cooped up had come back to him in Mrs Figg's tight cat filled quarters, and he felt the need for fresh air. After securing Madam Pomfrey's approval to go out again, Harry told Ginny he wanted to get a jacket, but stopped her as she tried to follow him into his room.
Harry didn't feel up to walking the spacious grounds today, so they sat under a tree near the entrance hall. The air was extra chilly after the stifling heat of Mrs Figg's. They sat close, holding hands and talking. Ginny let Harry steer the conversation, although she had so many questions about his past, having been tickled with a small glimpse of it. She knew she could better understand him if she knew where he was coming from.
Hermione and Ron had been walking absently and didn't notice the Whomping Willow until they came upon it, just a safe distance from those lethal branches. It was under this tree that a tunnel led them to the Shrieking Shack where they had first met Sirius black. Like Harry, the two of them had been so wrapped in worry about Harry's physical condition, that they too, had never properly grieved the man they had become so fond of.
Harry had spoken of the fact that Sirius had never had a proper funeral. Being Muggle raised, this was the only tradition Harry knew of to memorialize someone you loved. Harry had been bitter that Sirius had never been cleared of the murders he had never committed or thanked for exposing Peter Pettigrew as the real criminal, and he hadn't been apologized to, or hadn't had a normal decent life because he'd spent so much of it locked away in Azkaban.
Ron told Hermione that Mrs Weasley had looked into the possibility of having some sort of service for Sirius, to give Harry at least some sort of closure, and to prove to him that Sirius was not forgotten or unloved as so many would have believed. Sitting here in their own grief, made them feel just how hurt Harry must feel over this loss, and how much family week would have meant to him, had Sirius lived, even if he could not attend. Harry didn't have to prove he had someone, he just had to know it himself. They also knew, that although at sixteen, they felt pretty grown up, it was still nice to know your parents were an owl away to provide comfort or advice from a knowing source. Harry loved the Weasleys with his whole heart, but they had seven children of their own, and he would feel guilty for using their time unless absolutely necessary. Sirius was a bigger loss than they had ever thought of before now.
"Poor Professor Lupin's never really been the same since Sirius died either," Ron noticed only now.
"Well, he's the last of the group, isn't he? The Marauders, Padfoot, Prongs, Wormtail and Moony. Lupin doesn't have many friends who would not only understand his condition, but accept him for what he is, and even learn to become Animagi to run wild with him on full moons. He always knew somehow, that while waiting for a cure, he may still have been able to run amicably with them again someday, but then one by one, they got killed, or turned over to the Dark Side, like Wormtail...Peter," Hermione explained.
No one would ever have guessed how much that scruffy looking character in the wanted posters would be missed and mourned by so many.
As they approached the castle, Ron and Hermione noticed Harry and Ginny sitting, staring into each other's eyes, deep in conversation. Ron cleared his throat loudly as they approached, so as not to disturb them. Harry still seemed nervous whenever Ron caught him showing interest in Ginny, though Ron couldn't have been more proud. He couldn't think of a better match. Hermione had cautioned Ron not to push the two of them together, because if Harry felt pressure, he would back off out of instinct to protect himself and others. Harry was already terrified of getting someone killed for just knowing him.
Ron had come to believe that now that Ginny was out of her crush phase, she really knew what she was getting herself into, and Hermione complimented his faith in his little sister. Ron was really growing up, in matters of the heart.
"Well, Harry's a good guy," Ron said, almost wondering in the back of his mind why Hermione had never given any indication of feelings other than friendship towards Harry. As if in answer, Hermione said,
"Well, Ginny's had a chance to get to know Harry slowly over time. We met so early on, that you and Harry were like brothers to me." Ron gulped at this statement, but 'no,' he assured himself, Hermione can't consider us brother and sister now. Hermione kissed him, as in answer to this question.
"So, what have you two been up to today?" Ron asked Harry and Ginny. Ginny was about to tell Hermione and Ron that they had spent some time with Mrs Figg, when she felt an elbow in her side. Harry was not ready to share his childhood memories just yet with them, but Ginny felt happy that at least he didn't seem much bothered by the fact that she had looked into the window of his past, even for a very short glimpse. It would be his secret for as long as he wanted, she vowed to herself.
"Oh nothing," Ginny answered brightly, and Harry smiled at her in gratitude for picking up on his feelings. Although Harry seemed too tired for having done nothing all day, as Ginny had told them, they did not pry.
Harry asked Ron and Hermione what they had done that day, and seeing their sudden down turned looks, asked them what was wrong. Remembering that Harry had likened silence about Sirius and his death to ignoring an elephant in the room, Hermione told him the truth. Harry hadn't been ready for this answer. He figured that they'd just had one of their typical fights or something. Harry had nothing much to say in comfort to them. He didn't know how to comfort himself in the matter. Now he knew why they had been silent about the whole thing at St Mungo's. Now, he understood.
It suddenly hit Harry, that Sirius would not want them all moping around mourning for him. They would anyway, but now Harry remembered something Professor Lupin had told him on one long night at St Mungo's when he had been in so much pain, physical and mental, that he felt like giving up and joining Sirius and his parents.
Harry found his voice and spoke of that torturous night for the first time. "Professor Lupin told me that Sirius told him, that even if he got killed, the most important thing to him in the world, was for me to know that he was innocent, and that he wanted me. He said if he had to die, he wanted me to know that he was true to my parents...He said he wanted me to live knowing that, so Remus reckons that at least he died having those all important issues that tormented him in Azkaban resolved. It didn't matter if he was cleared in the eyes of the community, just with me...Remus said, he at least had peace of sorts with that when he died...Wind's kicked up," he said, wiping his sleeve across his eyes to brush the flying dust out of them. He hated when this happened. Why did he have to cry every time he talked about his Godfather. Hermione of course, sobbed unrestrained.
"Anyway," Harry continued after gathering a little more strength from Ginny's encouraging gaze, "Sirius would hate it if we were sad every day about him. He loved fun and good times, and he wouldn't want that taken away from you...us...for him. He was going to give me a real home, and he wanted me, so I know he wanted me to be alright...and I will be...eventually...but you guys...next week is for you...us," he corrected uncertainly, though missing Sirius more than ever right now.
Harry lapsed into a small fantasy of how great it would have been if Sirius had been cleared and had attended family week with him. They had never gotten the chance to toss a ball in the yard, or take in a game of Quidditch together, and Sirius wouldn't be there the first time Harry would get drunk and make a fool of himself to give him trouble the next morning, but knowing that Sirius wanted those things more than anything else in the world, strengthened Harry for the week to come.
No one said anything, feeling slightly like a weight had lifted from their shoulders. Without knowing it, Harry had just eulogized his Godfather, and they hoped he would remember these words. Sirius was a Marauder back when he was their age, having the time of his life, gallivanting around as Animagi with his friends, and this man would wish no less for his beloved Godson.
Harry decided that he would finally take Professor Lupin's advice, and try to live again, instead of merely just existing. It would not do his parents or Sirius justice. So it was with a somewhat more unburdened heart that the friends made their way back into the school.
When Madam Pomfrey arrived to give Harry his many potions, she noticed the subdued tone in the room. "Everything alright, Mr Potter?" she asked, lifting his chin to look into his eyes.
"Fine, just a bit tired," Harry said, quite truthfully. He had never given a speech like that before.
"Well, I have put in your charts, a regular snack time. You need to build yourself up. Your walking is much improved, especially with the recent incentive plan established," she informed him, smiling, and turning to look squarely at Ginny, who suddenly became very shy. "Fastest, most effective form of physical therapy I have ever witnessed," she teased, taking his pulse, as his blushed crimson.
Turning Serious, the Matron told him, "Now Harry, I have cleared you to attend most of the activities for family week, but I must insist that you eat regularly and get your rest. If you don't take care, I daresay, you'll end up flat on your back in bed, and I promise you, if you think I fuss now..." she threatened good naturedely.
Turning to Ron and Hermione and especially Ginny, she warned, "Now, you three, I am holding you partially responsible for Mr Potter's welfare. You have veto privilege over him if you feel he is over taxing himself. They all nodded in agreement, taking this very seriously, despite seeing Harry roll his eyes. Sometimes lately, Ron could be a worse over protector than the girls, but it would be more activity than Harry had seen for months.
Mrs Weasley knocked, carrying a tray of hot chocolate with marshmallows and bringing with her some guests. The rest of the school had begun kick off parties in the dorms. The whole place was buzzing with speculation as to what accommodation had been made for the guests, but it was still the Headmaster's delightful secret.
Having had their cleansing talk about Sirius, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry were ready for now, at least, to have some fun. In fact, Harry's whole self changed when he saw, Neville, Luna, the twins, Tyler and Stephanie and a whole slew of Gryffindors enter the room for what would be the best party in the castle. It touched Harry to know that these people would rather be with him than in their own dorms.
Fred and George kept everyone in stitches with their impersonations of Professor Umbridge, trying to undo the chaos they'd caused last year. They even made a miniature lake appear in the centre of the room, which Madam Pomfrey ordered away, stating that the dampness wouldn't be good for her patients.
As with all Gryffindor parties, this one went on well into the night, and tonight, whenever Sirius would cross Harry's mind, it wasn't necessarily a bad memory. There had been good times before Harry's parents and Sirius had been killed, especially when they were Harry's age, and not one of them, would deny their precious child a chance for fun, in a life that had been so rife with loss and misery.
Madam Pomfrey was going to break up the party at ten o'clock, when the twins brought in the Butterbeer, but seeing Harry nibbling lightly on food, like he actually enjoyed it, made her change her mind. Some extra nourishment would do the boy good.
Ron was nervous about what he was about to do, but he also knew how Harry resented the fact that there had never been a public service of any kind for Sirius. He knew it was time to publicly acknowledge the dear man, even in this small gathering of people who believed him innocent. It touched Harry to his heart when Ron raised his glass of Butterbeer and said, "To Sirius!" Everyone raised their glasses and repeated, "To Sirius!" Harry was not sad for some reason, just strangely proud. It felt good to finally have a positive acknowledgement of his Godfather, and he hadn't known until this moment, how much he needed that.
Harry knew his grief was not over, nor would it ever be, but for tonight, he could smile at the picture of his parents wedding, with them dancing around, and Sirius in the background raising his glass to the happy couple. When Madam Pomfrey finally ushered everyone out of the room, it was with happy thoughts and a lingering kiss on his lips from Ginny that he finally went to sleep. The first dreamless sleep he'd had in a very very long time.
As Ron wasn't as tired as Harry, he stayed awake for awhile. He couldn't help looking at him. The moon glowed across his friend's face and he noticed that for once, Harry's breathing was slow and steady and his body did not twitch soon after sleep overtook him like it had lately. Ron wondered if Harry would ever transform into a Griffin again, or if that had all been part of a forced survival involuntary skill that was lost for good now that he was on the mend.
Ron and Hermione had only become Animagi, it seemed, to help Harry, and only for that purpose. If Harry was stronger soon, Ron felt sure Dumbledore would encourage them to practice to become Animagi, and with these happy thoughts, and looking forward to family week which would bring Bill home for a visit, Ron fell asleep. A peaceful night for all.
The improvement in Harry over all, was apparent to everyone when he showed up to the breakfast table before Fred and George and even Hermione. This would be the last private meal in the Hospital Wing for the week. The Hogwarts Express would begin bringing guests at six o'clock for the welcoming feast.
Mrs Weasley and Madam Pomfrey seemed very pleased when Harry helped himself to seconds of everything. Mrs Weasley explained that she was on a working holiday, helping Mad Eye Moody set up security checkpoints at the Hogsmeade station.
Neville brought Harry some very welcome news. It seemed that there were at least seven plants that seemed ready to be carved into brooms by the time the match with Slytherin arrived. In the company of his circle of friends, Harry left the Hospital Wing with a thousand reminders not to over tax himself. Even Snape had been forbidden to assign homework for the entire week to any student.
As they reached the Great Hall, they were astounded to see the lengths tiny little Professor Flitwick had taken to make the guests comfortable. Two large classrooms had been converted into a large pool and waterslide area that one would expect at an expensive resort. There were showers all around it, all with different perfumed scents and a large hot tub, whose jets were in fact, large massaging magical fingers.
The poolside loungers had individual heating and softness preferences at the touch of a button. The first floor had been turned into boutiques and salons and the second floor, luxurious accommodations for entire families. Keeping up with the theme of the seventies, the rooms were all Muggle oriented, and decorated in garish earth tones of green, brown and rust. Dobby and Winky delighted in placing mints and chocolates on all the pillows and even Hermione's parents, the dentists couldn't say no to that.
In celebration of what would hopefully become a yearly event, Dumbledore had asked Hagrid to plant two small young trees, one on either side of the entrance to the Great Hall. The trees could be looked back fondly on by former students, who could gauge their time out of school by the size of the trees in years to come.
A large box that looked to be made of stainless steel, was placed in front of the trees. Each student was asked to place a note or small personal belonging into the box, which would be buried next to the trees as a time capsule. No prior notice of this had been given, and Harry and Ron had no idea what to put in the box. Hermione as usual, came up with an instant idea. She came back from the girls dorms after five minutes, carrying one of her hand knitted house- elf freedom hats with a S.P.E.W. badge pinned to it, with a note. She wanted to be remembered as having been the one to start the house- elf freedom movement. Maybe one day, there would be a statue of her in the Ministry Of Magic, thought Hermione wasn't keen on the idea.
Harry couldn't help but feel a little intimidated to be asked to put something into this capsule. He didn't want to be self important, but he knew with sickening accuracy, that people in the future, would clamber for anything to do with The- Boy- Who- Lived...especially if he managed to pull it off again. His place in recorded history was already guaranteed, one way or the other, so he really didn't see the point of his participating in this time capsule.
Ron placed his pamphlet for a career as an Auror in the box with a note, which said cheekily, "Chudley Cannons rule!" He wondered if people would see the humour in this in the future. Perhaps by then, maybe he would be an Auror and the Chudley Cannons will have won something finally, he reasoned.
"Get real," said Harry, enjoying Ron's moment of thinking about future success for his favourite Quidditch team, even if it was decades from now. "Why the pamphlet?"
"Well," Ron replied thoughtfully, "If I put that in, I'll have to work harder, otherwise if one of my great great great grandchildren looked me up in a book and I hadn't become an Auror, they'd be disappointed in me." Hermione blushed involuntarily when Ron mentioned Grandchildren. Harry had noticed, but let her keep her secret hopes of marriage and family to herself. School came first for now.
"So, what are you going to put in the time capsule?" Ginny asked Harry.
"I'm going to pickle myself and jump in," Harry replied, smiling at her, but she knew he was just avoiding getting into a depression. She knew this week would be hard on him, but not so soon. He changed the subject.
"What are you putting in?" Harry asked Ginny. Ginny retrieved a photograph of the Weasley family clock, with tiny moving pictures of the family on it, which showed not the time, but location of every Weasley and now Harry as well. She beamed, placing it in the box, her only regret that this picture showed Percy still in exile. It was a perfect time capsule article, they all agreed.
Harry felt that he didn't feel like walking the grounds anymore, and everyone worried that he was about to retreat into himself like they'd feared.
Ginny assumed that she would be welcome into his room, but when he asked for some time alone, however gently he tried to say it, she felt hurt. He did his best to reassure her that he just needed some time to think. They all left, a little disheartened, Ron's arm around Ginny's shoulder. "I thought he liked me," she said more to herself than to them.
"He does, Gin, but Harry's like that. Always has been. You just haven't been around him enough. He just wants to be alone, because in his case, misery doesn't love company. He doesn't want to bring you down."
"For awhile there, while he was confined to bed, he almost had no choice but to open up to us, but now that he can get away again, he is," Hermione lamented.
"Well," Ron winked at Ginny to make her feel better, " I could always..." He gestured his wand, indicating a curse to Harry to make him lighten up." Ginny smiled. Her brother was so much more enlightened now.
After awhile, Ginny headed back to the Hospital Wing against Hermione and Ron's advice. They had tried on more than one occasion to draw Harry out when he was like this, and it almost always ended in a fight that would last for days. Ginny got ready for a battle royale, stiffened her back and went in. Instead, she found Harry lying on his back on the bed, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Ginny!" He croaked, passing a sleeve over his eyes and kicking himself for not sealing the door. She had never seen him cry before, not even when he was only twelve and had broken his arm in a Quidditch match. Ginny felt like she had let Harry down somehow. Had he cried like this at the Hospital when she had not visited him?
Ginny wasn't silly enough to have to ask him what was wrong. Everyone was talking about their futures and grandchildren and careers, and Harry was well aware of the fact that he may not see the end of the year, let alone a future with what the prophecy held. He had lain here wondering if he would at least, be a tragic hero, kill Voldemort, but be killed in doing so. Many duels, he reasoned, had ended this way. He hadn't really minded the thought of dying if it was quick and painless, but now he had Ginny, and that made the thought of dying worse. He wasn't ready to leave her, he'd just found her. Events like the time capsule made him painfully aware of his destiny, and it hurt.
Ginny let out a small sigh of relief when she placed Harry's head on her shoulder and he did not pull away. There didn't seem to be a need to talk for awhile. Madam Pomfrey interrupted the comfort Harry was getting by popping in to see if he was alright, having noticed his early return. She did notice he'd been crying, but Ginny seemed to have control of the situation, and the Matron felt that this would be good therapy for the grieving teenager, so she let them be, and pretended not to notice the streaks on his face.
Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration, not knowing if it was because he wanted to be left alone for real, or because he needed her to be with him now. Either way, it was not comforting. To need her was bad, he thought. Want her, yes, need her, no. People leave.
"I'm not putting anything in that time capsule. It's rubbish!" he spat. Ginny now had a better idea of what specifically was bothering him. What could the famous Harry Potter possibly put in there that would be just him, not 'The-'Boy- Who- Lived'...or died...whatever had happened by the time this box would be opened. How could whatever item he chose, not be connected to Voldemort and the prophecy. Every aspect of his life was tainted for 'neither can live while the other survives...'
"I've got it!" Ginny said, having read his mind. "Maybe Mrs Figg would let you have one of those, candy dishes, ash tray things you made to put in the time capsule. That was before You- Know Who and you were...you know..." She knew that Harry wouldn't want anything to do with his unwanted fame going into that box. He could hear the future now, taunting his mind, "Ladies and gentlemen, up for bids is this picture of Harry Potter just after the Triwizard Tournament taken by an audience member four hundred years ago!"
Harry made up his mind quickly, before he lost his nerve to go ask Mrs Figg for the item. Arabella was surprised to see him so soon. Ginny hoped that Harry didn't notice that she had taken down the stallion picture Harry had made, and he didn't. Mrs Figg was very understanding of his need for the dish he'd made, and as she had over forty of them, she didn't mind. Ginny never got the chance to ask Mrs Figg where the stallion picture had gone. She would have loved to have had it if Mrs Figg didn't want it anymore.
When Harry asked Ginny for a moment alone with Mrs Figg, it wasn't a push away, but a respectful request. She complied, and as the door closed, she saw Harry take up a quill and begin to write. A half an hour later, considerably more time than he'd asked for, Harry emerged, pale, but master of his emotions. He didn't tell her what was in the letter, and she didn't ask. He dropped in the time capsule quickly before he lost his nerve, and with it, went all his hopes and dreams such as they were. He felt better. He didn't know why.
It definitely improved Ron and Hermione's night to see the two of them stroll out into the grounds. "How'd you do it?" Hermione asked Ginny, not bothering to hide the question from Harry.
"She put the Imperius Curse on me," Harry joked, and they could see he felt worlds better. Ron and Hermione had never seen Harry snap out of a dark time so quickly before. Ginny was good for him, and so it seemed was he for her. She was so bright around him, like a light when he needed one, even in broad daylight sometimes now. Nothing was going to ruin this week.