Chapter 33: The Persistence of Memory

Blood was rolling down his arm, dripping onto the ground.

He was holding the quill again, carving new words into his skin: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…

Snape was looming over him, staring down at his arm in glee, pale face contorted in happiness.

Umbridge was standing beside Snape, toad-like face full of malice.

"Harry!"

Someone was shaking him.

Harry shot up in bed, heart pounding, hands shaking.

"You good, mate?" Ron asked, brown eyes troubled.

Harry nodded, dragging himself out of bed.

He began to get ready for the day, noticing Ron hovering in the corner, trying (and failing) to pretend he wasn't watching Harry's every move.

Ron had discovered that he was using a Silencing Charm on his bed nearly three weeks ago and had immediately shut it down. He refused to allow Harry to hide his nightmares. Now, instead of waking alone to the terror of his dreams, Harry was woken from them by his friend.

Harry was grateful for the company, but he hated how tired Ron sometimes looked. He didn't want to be the cause of his exhaustion. Ron already had enough to deal with.

"You've been having those dreams more and more often," Ron said suddenly, startling Harry as he was pulling on his shirt.

It was true. Snape and Umbridge had taken to appearing in his dreams nearly every night, taunting him with unfinished prophecies and bloody quills.

"I know."

There was no point trying to deny it. After all, Ron had been witness to many of the nightmares himself.

"Can I do anything?"

Harry turned to look at his friend, noting the genuine expression on his face. He knew Ron would do anything for him.

"I don't think you can do anything, Ron. I'm working on it with Professor McGonagall and Sirius, but this stuff doesn't just go away. No matter how much we might want it to. You don't have to keep waking me up..."

Ron shook his head.

"I don't mind. I just...I wish you didn't have to deal with this. It's bad enough that she made you…"

Ron gestured to his arm.

"But now you have to dream about her too! It's just unfair."

It was unfair, but apparently that's how the human brain worked.

"Thanks, Ron. You know, for caring."

Ron smiled at him.

"Of course, Harry. I know you'd do the same for me."

Harry grabbed his bag and the two of them headed down to breakfast together.

"Are you and George spending the day together?" Ron asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry punched him lightly on the arm, fighting his blush.

"No. Remus is coming into the village, so I'm going to be with him. Besides, George is meeting with…"

Ron's face darkened.

"Percy," he spat, looking furious.

"I still can't believe he wants to talk to that prat."

Ron had not taken the news of George's desire to reconcile with Percy well. At all.

"He is your brother, Ron."

"Whatever," Ron muttered.

"He's still a prat."

George's plan to trick Percy into coming to Hogsmeade hadn't ended up being a trick at all. Instead, after much deliberation, George had simply written him a letter and asked to meet with him. Percy had agreed far more readily than anyone had expected, telling George to meet him at the Three Broomsticks at noon.

George had been jittery for days, unsure of how the interaction would go. He would be meeting with Percy alone. None of the other Weasleys had any interest in talking to their estranged brother. Harry would've gone but considering that Percy thought he was deranged, it was probably better that he stay away.

Instead, Harry would be spending the day with Remus.

Harry was worried about the older man. So was Sirius. Since learning that Snape had been the one to tell Voldemort the prophecy, Remus had been in a very dark place. He'd refused to take the Wolfsbane Potion that Snape had made, spending an incredibly painful full moon in a nearby forest. The after-effects of that decision were gruesome: Remus had returned covered in self-inflicted wounds, exhausted and despondent.

Sirius was nearly out of his mind with worry, not knowing how to help his partner. He'd begged Remus to go to Hogsmeade and spend time with Harry, hoping it would bring some light back to his eyes.

Harry desperately hoped he would be able to help. He didn't think Sirius could handle much more of this.

After leaving George at the Three Broomsticks, Harry set off to meet Remus by the Shrieking Shack. He didn't know why Remus wanted to meet there of all places, but Harry wasn't about to argue with the man.

Harry had seen Remus' deterioration through the mirror, but he wasn't prepared for how awful the man truly looked. He seemed thinner, paler, older. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, giving testament to his many sleepless nights.

"Hi, Remus!" Harry said, trying to disguise the worry in his voice.

Remus greeted him with a smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

"How are you, Harry?"

Harry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?"

To Harry's delight, Remus actually laughed.

"Yes, you probably should. I know I look a mess."

"You do. A bit."

Remus laughed again. Harry never wanted him to stop.

"Remus...what's going on?"

The man sighed, staring hard at the Shrieking Shack.

"I am struggling with myself, Harry."

"How do you mean?"

"I find myself very much wanting to hurt Severus Snape."

Harry let that sink in, feeling the horror that came with it.

"Remus…"

"I know, Harry. I know that I should not hurt him. I know that I should not want to."

Remus paused, drawing in a deep breath.

"I am furious."

Harry could understand that. He had been furious as well.

"Snape faced no consequences for his actions. None. Dumbledore believes that the loss of Lily was enough punishment. I couldn't possibly disagree more. Lily wasn't his to lose. She wasn't the same girl he knew in school. She was a woman, a mother, a fighter. He didn't even KNOW her by that point. How could he possibly have felt her loss as anything more than the loss of a perfect object he lived to covet?"

Harry hadn't thought about it like that.

"He was a Death Eater, Harry. He committed crimes during that time and yet faced NO punishment for it. He was able to return to Hogwarts. He was given a well-paying job, forgiven of his crimes. Meanwhile, Sirius was left to rot in the worst place on Earth, and you were left to be neglected and abused."

"Remus…"

"No. It's not right, Harry. Dumbledore is not God. He doesn't get to decide who has to pay for their sins and who doesn't. Snape participated in crimes, he aided a mass murderer. Those crimes don't disappear simply because he 'lost the woman he loved.'"

Remus sneered those last words, derision clear in his tone.

"Snape doesn't get to claim Lily as his love. She loved James. She CHOSE James. She WASN'T Snape's to love!"

Harry put a hand on his arm, offering silent comfort as the words continued to spill out.

"Do you know who really lost the people they loved that night, Harry? I did. Sirius did. You did. You lost your parents. I lost all of my friends and the man I loved. I lost everyone and everything. You lost everyone and everything. Snape lost the memory of a girl he didn't even truly know. Why is that loss worth more than ours? Why is it worth redemption? Why is he allowed to walk free when Sirius is still unable to leave the house, when he still has nightmares because of the hell he lived in for 12 years? How is that right?"

"It isn't," Harry said.

"You're right, Remus. It isn't fair. But it's done."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Harry cut him off.

"It's done, Remus. We can't change it. What we can do is live. We somehow managed to find each other again. That's a miracle! We need to make the most of it. Wallowing in revenge and hatred isn't going to help us live, Remus. Snape's not worth it. We've already lost enough happiness because of him. He doesn't get to take any more. Don't let him take any more!"

Remus looked at him hard, studying his face.

"When did you become so wise, Harry?"

Harry shrugged.

"I've been thinking lately…"

"Merlin help us," Remus joked.

Harry glared at him.

"I've been thinking about what I want at the end of all of this. I don't need my enemies to be dead at my feet, I don't need power, I don't need glory. I just want to be happy. Anything that doesn't help me get there is just more pain that I don't need to go through."

Harry turned to look at Remus, staring right into his amber eyes.

"You don't need to go through it either, Remus. You have an opportunity to be happy. Let yourself take it. Don't let anger destroy your life. It's just not worth it."

Remus sighed heavily, turning his gaze back to the Shrieking Shack.

"You're right. I've been…"

Remus cut himself off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I've been awful. Sirius has been so worried, and I've been too busy being ANGRY to notice."

"It's alright, Remus. We all lose ourselves sometimes."

Remus nodded, looking much happier.

"Enough of this heavy stuff. Let's go to Honeydukes! I need some chocolate, and you need to tell me all about how things are going with George!"

…

Harry and Remus spent nearly an hour in Honeydukes. They were both candy enthusiasts: Remus because he was addicted to sugar, and Harry because he'd never gotten candy as a child.

Harry saw a package of pink marshmallows and bought them immediately, remembering George's idea for his Dream Diary. He hoped these weren't poisonous.

Harry found himself pausing by the Sugar Quills, eyes drawn to the cherry-flavored ones. His heart began to pound inexplicably. The quills were red. The same red as the quill…

"Harry," Remus said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's look at something else."

Harry let himself be pulled away, cursing his own weakness. Was he really afraid of Cherry Sugar Quills?

"It's okay, Harry. They reminded you of something. That's normal."

Harry shook his head.

"It's stupid," he spat.

"I mean...it's candy!"

"You may know that intellectually, but the mind plays tricks, Harry."

They left the shop, bags in hand.

Harry stayed silent, furious with himself for being so disturbed by something so stupid.

"You know…" Remus began, glancing at Harry.

"Your father was very badly injured once."

"Really?"

"Yes. It was early in the war. He was just eighteen, and he was caught in Fiendfyre. Do you know what that is?"

Harry nodded. He'd read about it.

"He was able to escape, but it was a very near thing. There was another Order member with him, and she died in the flames. James managed to pull himself out, but he had some pretty bad burns on his back and legs. Do you know what happened after he was healed?"

Harry shook his head. He had no idea.

"He couldn't be around fire: not a fireplace, not a candle, not even a lit match. He would freak out, get angry, panic. It was understandable, natural even. Just as natural as you feeling afraid when you see a quill like that. It's just your brain playing tricks. It's not weakness or fragility."

They continued walking for a bit, letting the silence wash over them.

"Did he get better?" Harry asked suddenly, desperate to know the answer.

"Yes, but it was slow and not always linear. I know he could be around fire by the time you were born, but I don't know for sure how much it bothered him."

"It took…" Harry tried to do the math in his head.

"2 years? 2 whole years?"

Remus sighed.

"Harry...you can't put time limits on these things. That's not helpful."

"I know, but it's just so ANNOYING!"

Harry kicked a stone in anger, sending it skittering across the path.

"I'm supposed to be strong, you know? Brave. I'm a Gryffindor! I'm not supposed to be upset by red-colored candy!"

"Do you think your Dad was brave?" Remus asked, startling Harry.

"Of course…"

"Well, he couldn't look at a match without freaking out. Does that make him any less brave?"

"No," Harry whispered, remembering how his father had stood up to Voldemort in his final moments, refusing to let his wife and son die.

"It doesn't make you any less brave either. I don't think you really understand, Harry, that what happened with Umbridge wasn't a little thing. She was torturing you. For months. That's not a thing you just brush away like nothing. And I think you know that."

Before Harry could respond, he caught sight of a familiar figure turning a corner. It was George. He was alone.

"Hi, George…" Harry said uncertainly, wondering where Percy had gone.

George gave him a wide smile, letting him know that everything was alright.

"Remus?" George asked, glancing at the older man.

"Is there a way for us to talk to Dumbledore? Without Percy being seen? He's waiting for me at the Three Broomsticks."

Remus thought for a moment, frowning slightly.

"You could take him through the Honeydukes tunnel...you know it, George?"

George smirked.

"Of course."

"We can meet you there in five minutes. I doubt Percy wants to be seen going anywhere with the two of us."

…

It took surprisingly little time for the group of four to make it through the tunnel, out the One-Eyed Witch, and up to Dumbledore's office.

Percy had yet to speak, lingering awkwardly by George, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. He looked wary, like he expected someone to punch him at any moment.

It was a stroke of good luck that Harry had his Invisibility Cloak with him. Percy did not want to be seen randomly wandering the halls of Hogwarts. He had an image to uphold at the Ministry, after all.

They made it to Dumbledore's office, knocking on the door. Once inside, Percy removed the Cloak, slumping into a seat beside the others.

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said kindly.

"What has brought you here today?"

Percy shifted, hands twisting in his lap.

"I want to apologize. And I want to help."

Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling merrily.

"I'm very glad to hear that. And we'll be very glad to have your help."

Percy finally smiled, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses back up his face. He turned toward Harry, smile dropping as he looked straight into his eyes.

"I owe you an apology, Harry. A big one. I should have known better than to think you a liar. I am truly sorry. I've been wanting to speak to you since that edition of Magical Monthly came out, but I just...I was a coward. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness…"

"You have it," Harry said easily, smiling at Percy.

"I don't blame you, Percy. It's easy to believe lies when they sound more reasonable than the truth."

Percy grinned back at him, and Harry noticed for the first time just how much Percy looked like his brothers when he smiled.

Harry and George were ushered out of the office not long after. They were still considered "too young" to participate in Order business, even if it involved Percy Weasley.

"Thank you, Harry," George said as they walked back to the Common Room.

"For what?" Harry asked, confused.

"For forgiving him. For telling me to forgive him. It was so much easier to fix than I thought it'd be. Sometimes, you just have to talk to each other."

Harry smiled up at George, letting the other boy take his hand.

"I'm glad you're happy."

"I'm always happy when I'm with you."

Harry looked at him, surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes. Even when I'm sad, you just...I don't know how to explain it."

Harry could feel himself blushing. They didn't normally talk about what they had between them. It wasn't something they wanted to label. Not yet. Even so, Harry knew George was talking about love.

"I feel the same way," Harry whispered, knowing that they both understood what that really meant.

Someday they'd be able to say it for real.

"Look what I found at Honeydukes!" Harry said, hurrying to change the subject before he said something stupid.

He pulled the pink marshmallows from his bag, handing one to George.

"Are these poisonous?"

Harry snorted.

"I thought the same thing. I really hope they're not. If they are, I'll have to take back everything bad I've ever said about Dream Interpretation."

The marshmallows were not poisonous. They were, however, delicious. They tasted like what Harry imagined a strawberry-flavored cloud would taste like.

Harry and George shared them as they worked through their homework that evening, competing to see who could eat the most.

Harry lost. Badly.

The resulting sugar crash left him slumped against George's shoulder, eyes drifting shut, all thoughts of blood-red quills forgotten.

…

"Very good, Harry!" Dumbledore praised, smiling at Harry from across his desk.

"That was very well done. You were able to block me out almost immediately. I think it's time for us to make things more difficult."

Harry held back a sigh. Occlumency was already difficult enough without making it harder. At least Dumbledore had a tendency to focus on his time at Hogwarts rather than his childhood. Even with that change, the lessons still left Harry exhausted and with a terrible headache.

"This time, I want you to refrain from extending your magic until I am already in your mind. And, I warn you, I will not hold back this time."

Harry nodded, bracing himself.

"Legilimens."

Harry stood no chance. He tried to use his Spell Sensing, but he could hear nothing, see nothing. Dumbledore's magic was flaming, fierce and powerful, beautiful in its terrible strength.

Harry lost himself to memory.

He was in his cupboard.

He'd been in here for a long time. Weeks.

Ever since the incident at the Zoo, he'd only been let out to go to school.

Once the day was over, he was locked back in, left to rot in the darkness.

Some nights, Uncle Vernon forgot to lock the door, and Harry would sneak out in the dead of night to steal food from the kitchen.

Even so, he could only take so much without it being noticed.

He was always hungry.

It gnawed at him, a dull throb that never went away.

The worst part wasn't the hunger, or the tiny space, it was the feeling of being alone.

So profoundly alone that he sometimes felt disconnected from the world. Like a ghost.

It didn't help matters that Harry guessed he could die in here without anyone caring.

Aunt Petunia would complain about the smell, Uncle Vernon would miss screaming at him, and Dudley would want his punching-bag back, but no one would actually CARE.

No one would miss him.

On those nights, the darkness of the cupboard consuming him, Harry wished very much that someone would take him away.

As the weeks dragged on, he no longer cared whether it was a living being or the sweet caress of death.

Anything was better than staying here.

Locked away.

forgotten.

Harry fell out of the memory, the office rematerializing around him. Dumbledore was silent, staring at his desk, a tear dripping onto the wood.

"Sir, it's alright…"

"It isn't," Dumbledore croaked, looking stricken.

"I knew you may not be happy there, but I didn't think…"

He wiped his hand across his face, expression full of sorrow.

"I cannot offer you enough apologies, Harry. Nothing can make this better. I know that. I-I had hoped you would be loved there. I should have made a better effort to ensure that you were. I am sorry."

Harry thought it odd that he didn't blame Dumbledore. He knew that the man would never intentionally hurt him.

"It's not your fault, Sir."

"It is."

"But it isn't. Not really. You may have put me there, but I probably would have gone there anyway. They were my next-of-kin, and you didn't have any legal authority over me. I could have ended up somewhere much worse. Besides, you didn't make them hurt me. That's their fault. You couldn't have known what it'd be like there. Could you have done a better job at checking? Yes. But so many others didn't notice anything was wrong, Sir. People who are trained to look for signs didn't notice or didn't believe me. That's not your fault."

Dumbledore wiped away another tear, watching Harry with admiration in his eyes.

"You are a far better person than you have any right to be, Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"I'm not, Sir. I try not to hold grudges because it's bad for me. I think that's rather selfish."

Dumbledore laughed a bit.

"You are far too modest, Harry."

The smile faded from Dumbledore's face.

"I must ask something of you, Harry. Something that I have no right to ask. Something that you have no reason to agree to."

Dumbledore sighed, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"There is a protection on Privet Drive. A protection that is linked to your mother's blood. A protection that is only activated when you consider the house of your Aunt to be your home. If you do not stay there for at least a brief time every year, the protection will fade. I'm afraid we cannot allow that to happen."

Harry swallowed hard.

"You want me to go back?"

Dumbledore shook his head wildly, light refracting off his spectacles.

"No. I do not want you to. I absolutely would not send you there out of a desire to do so. But…"

"I need to go back."

Dumbledore said nothing, but his look told Harry everything he needed to know.

"For how long?"

"A month would be sufficient."

"Alright."

Harry could handle a month. He would be lonely, but it would be fine.

"Thank you, Harry. I cannot express...I am so very sorry."

Harry was sorry too.

"Sir...don't tell Sirius or Remus."

Dumbledore looked up at him, confusion on his face.

"Why?"

"I'll tell them. They should hear it from me."

Dumbledore nodded, understanding filling his eyes.

"Alright, Harry. Now, let us continue on with the lesson."

…

Harry left Dumbledore's office nearly an hour later, dull pain thrumming against his skull, radiating down his spine. Merlin, he hated Occlumency.

His attempts hadn't improved much. All he'd succeeded in doing was pulling Dumbledore out of one terrible memory only to fall into a worse one. It had not been a fun experience.

He made his way back to the Common Room slowly, trying to settle his emotions.

He was going back to the Dursleys.

It shouldn't shock him. He always ended up going back. He'd been a fool to let Sirius' promises get to him.

Harry knew he had a choice. Dumbledore wouldn't force him to go back. That somehow made things worse because Harry was CHOOSING to go back, choosing to put himself back in that house, choosing to put himself back at the mercy of people who hated him.

He knew it was the right choice, but that didn't make him like it. Sirius and Remus would be furious.

He pushed open the Portrait Hole and made his way over to his friends, settling into his customary place beside George.

"You good?" George asked, picking up on Harry's dark mood.

He shrugged, not sure what to say. George frowned, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet.

"We're going on a walk," he announced to the room, dragging Harry out of the Common Room and out onto the grounds.

The cool Spring air was lovely, smelling of flowers and rain.

"You look upset. What happened?"

There was no point trying to hide it. George would find out eventually.

"I'm going back to the Dursleys."

"What? Why? I thought Sirius didn't want you to."

"He doesn't. I want to go back."

George stopped, turning to stare at him with wide, frenzied eyes.

"What?"

"Dumbledore told me that I'm protected there. My mother's sacrifice keeps me safe as long as I can call Privet Drive home. It'll just be for a month."

George said nothing for a moment, face blank.

"That's bullshit," he said finally, teeth gritted.

"It's not…"

"Do you think your mother would have wanted you to stay there?"

"She would've wanted me to stay alive!"

"She'd want more than that! She'd want you to be happy!"

"Well, it doesn't matter what she wants does it? I'm going back! You can't stop me. Neither can Sirius."

George was fuming now, face red with anger.

"So we should just let you go back? Just stand by and let you go back to an abusive household? Let you be hit or starved or locked away?"

"Yes. Because it's what has to happen. And they haven't been that bad in years. I can survive it."

"No. You can't survive it, not entirely."

"What?"

"When you come back every year, you're always a little different, a little sadder. If you go back, it's only going to get worse. After everything you've gone through this year, do you really want to be there alone?"

"No," Harry gasped out, suddenly overwhelmed.

"No. I don't want that. But what am I supposed to do? What choice do I have?"

George paused for a moment, thinking.

"You had guards last summer, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Then, what if you get another one?"

"What?"

"I mean, what if a certain, extremely handsome, red-haired gentleman, became one of your guards?"

"If you mean Fred, then…"

"Harry, I'm serious. If you insist on going back, then I can visit you. I can check in every day."

That would be nice, but Harry couldn't ask George to do that.

"You don't have to…"

"I WANT to, Harry. Besides, it could be fun. I'll get to see you every day, and it'll keep your relatives in line. Let me do this, okay?"

"Okay, but…"

Harry paused, searching for the right words.

"You can't come to the house. You can meet me in the park, but you can't…"

"Why?"

"You just can't."

George frowned.

"I don't understand."

Harry sighed.

"They hate everything that's different, okay? That means magic and other things. Like us."

"Us?"

Harry could see as understanding broke out across George's face.

"Oh."

"Exactly. They can't know, okay? It could turn ugly. And if anyone sees us together, you're just a friend. It has to be that way. Uncle Vernon can't find out. He just can't."

George looked sad.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. They're just hateful. And ignorant."

George squeezed his hand.

"I don't want to have to hide how I feel about you."

"I know. But…"

Harry shuddered a bit, thinking of all the things Uncle Vernon had yelled at him as a child.

"I'm scared of what he might do," he whispered.

"Alright. Then I'm just your abnormally handsome best friend."

"I wouldn't say ABNORMALLY handsome.." Harry joked, grinning.

"Shut up."

A/N: Next Chapter is coming WEDNESDAY and will feature Harry's first attempt to break into the Horcruxes AND his first real interaction with Snape since everything that went down.

Thank you for the likes, follows, and comments. I really appreciate it :)