Chapter 1: Letters, Loneliness, and Love Lost

Everything is fine.

Best,

Harry

As soon as Harry set his pen down, Uncle Vernon grabbed the note from his hand, scanning it quickly.

"Fine," he said, shoving the paper back at him.

"Send it."

Harry complied quickly, tying the scrap of paper to the leg of the barn owl the Order had sent to him, fingers fumbling at the twine. Once the note was secured, the bird took off into the evening sky, dark shape disappearing on the horizon. Uncle Vernon watched as the owl flew away, nodding curtly before exiting the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Harry sat at his desk, staring at the world beyond the glass, wishing he could join the owl and fly away. It had only been six days since his return to Privet Drive, but Harry was already desperate to leave, desperate to be free.

His relatives were worse than ever, barely tolerating Harry's presence in their house. He was a prisoner, completely at their mercy. Aunt Petunia knew that Harry needed the protection of this house, knew that the Order would do anything to keep her happy.

For the first time since he'd started at Hogwarts, there was no one for them to fear. As long as Harry wrote a note every three days, they would be safe.

Harry was barely allowed out of his room, limited to bathroom breaks. His rations were limited, bland food pushed through the cat-flap twice a day, meagre portions and burnt bits of roast.

Harry ate everything he was given without complaint, desperate for sustenance. He was starting to grow again, the kind of growing that made him feel like he was being stretched, bones aching from the pressure. He was absolutely ravenous, finally understanding why Ron ate so much.

The constant hunger was far from Harry's only problem.

His nightmares had returned.

They were worse than ever, scenes from the Department of Mysteries playing over and over again on an endless loop. He was always trapped in his own body, forced to watch as he killed Sirius with his own wand, forced to watch the light leave those gray eyes. The dreams always ended with Voldemort's red gaze burning through his skin, chill laughter echoing in his head.

Harry didn't know what to do.

Last summer, he'd at least had letters from his friends and Sirius to distract him. Now, all he had were old textbooks and his own traitorous mind. He'd left the two-way mirror in his trunk like a fool, leaving himself completely cut off from those who loved him.

He was constantly on edge, caught in a never-ending state of fight-or-flight. It was exhausting. Everything was exhausting. Sleep brought him no relief, bringing the fear back all over again as he relived the horrors of that day at the Ministry.

He fell back into Spell-Crafting in a desperate attempt to escape the horrors in his head, working throughout the day and far into the night, trying to exhaust himself enough to sleep without dreams.

It never worked.

...

Everything is fine

Love,

Harry

It had been nine days. Nine long days.

It was afternoon, rain pounding at his windows, gray sky darkening, clouds moving quickly.

Harry was sitting at his desk, back hunched over his notebook, desperately trying to design an improved Stunner. Ideally, it would last much longer and only be reversible when removed by the original caster. Harry hadn't made much progress, but he needed to do something, needed to contribute something.

Every time he put down his quill, he thought of Rodolphus Lestrange's face as he fell through the veil. He saw the shock in his eyes, the way his fingers had grasped at nothing.

Harry didn't want to kill anyone else unless he couldn't avoid it. He knew that some might call it weak. Maybe it was. Harry just didn't want to kill. He didn't like the way it made him feel, slimy and corrupted.

Harry was broken from his work by a quiet knock on his door. He started, dripping ink onto his parchment.

His Aunt and Uncle never knocked.

Harry dove for his wand, pointing it at the door as the locks clicked. The door swung open, revealing...

"Dudley?"

His cousin was standing hesitantly in the doorway, a plate of food clutched in his hand.

"Can I come in?" he asked, looking nervous.

"Alright," Harry said, incredibly confused.

Dudley walked slowly into the room, closing the door gently behind him. He perched on the edge of Harry's bed, plate on his lap.

"Mum and Dad went out."

"Oh."

Dudley shifted awkwardly, holding the plate out to Harry.

"I brought you this."

Harry stared at Dudley, then at the plate, then back at Dudley.

"Why?" he asked, utterly baffled by this gesture.

Dudley's face fell, blue eyes filling with sadness.

"Because I'm sorry."

Harry thought for sure that he was hallucinating.

"I've been terrible to you. Mum and Dad have been terrible to you. I didn't realize until this year that what we've been doing to you is...it's abuse."

Harry didn't know what to think.

"Please just take the food, Harry. You need it."

Dudley held the plate out toward him, and Harry finally took it. It was a simple sandwich and crisps, but it was the best thing Harry had seen in days. He inhaled it, barely stopping himself from licking the plate.

"I'm going to try to bring you more. It's just hard with Mum always here. She'd probably think you were using magic on me or something."

Harry nodded. That was probably true.

"Thanks, Dudley," Harry said, meaning it.

He wasn't sure what was going on with his cousin, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Don't thank me," Dudley said, voice coming out harshly.

"It's the least I can do considering everything I've done to you."

Dudley stood, taking the empty plate from Harry's hands.

"I'll try to bring you more food soon. Hang in there, Harry."

…

I'm fine.

Love,

Harry

12 days.

12 days of endless nightmares, endless hunger, endless memories.

Dudley had visited him twice more, taking advantage of Aunt Petunia's new book club. Harry appreciated the food and, to his immense surprise, the company. Dudley had changed a lot over the past year, gaining a maturity and perspective that shocked Harry.

They had talked for over an hour, sharing stories of their lives outside Privet Drive. Harry was surprised to learn that Dudley was genuinely interested in magic, eager to learn more about how Wizards lived. He actually reminded Harry a bit of Mr. Weasley.

Dudley kept conversation light, but Harry had caught him looking worriedly at him several times, eyes scanning over his tired face. Harry knew he probably looked awful. He was avoiding sleep as much as possible, preferring the mental exhaustion of Spell-Crafting to the anguish of dreaming.

…

I'm fine. Everything is fine.

Love,

Harry

Harry was staring at the ceiling, watching the beams of sunlight refract across the white plaster.

All his energy was gone.

The manic desperation of his first two weeks at Privet Drive had faded completely, leaving him empty.

He just wanted everything to stop.

He wanted to stop seeing the dead bodies of the Aurors, the flash of Spells, the blankness of Emmeline Vance's eyes. He wanted to stop feeling the burning of the Cruciatus Curse, he wanted to stop remembering how it felt to scream without ceasing. He wanted to stop reliving the moment when he'd almost killed Sirius, wanted to stop thinking of his godfather sitting in a cell.

He just wanted everything to stop.

"Harry?"

Dudley was back again, carrying another plate full of food.

"Are you okay?"

Harry didn't know what to say. He was so far from okay that lying didn't even seem possible.

"Not really."

Dudley settled into Harry's desk chair, placing the plate of food in front of him.

"What's wrong?"

Harry said nothing.

"You can tell me, Harry. I won't tell anyone."

Harry didn't know whether to trust Dudley, but he needed someone to talk to. Desperately.

"About two weeks ago, I was involved in a…"

Harry trailed off. How could he explain this?

"Basically, I was kidnapped. I was forced to do some stuff against my will, I was tortured, and some people died."

Dudley was staring at him, mouth open in shock.

"What?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the look on his cousin's face.

"I know. It's mad."

Dudley stayed quiet for a minute, staring pointedly at Harry.

"Do you like...remember it sometimes. Like, think it's happening again?"

Harry nodded slowly, not sure how Dudley would know about that.

"One of my friends at school, Vanessa, has the same thing. Her Dad was...well, a monster. He would hit Vanessa a lot when she was a kid. She sometimes remembers the stuff he did, and it makes her freeze up and go quiet. She said that it feels like it's happening again. Is that what happens to you?"

Harry nodded again, feeling his cheeks heat a bit. He hated talking about this stuff.

His reaction did not go unnoticed.

"Don't be embarrassed. It's totally normal. Honestly, I'd be surprised if you didn't experience that. I thought you might after all the stuff we've done…"

Dudley trailed off, guilt creeping back into his eyes.

"Vanessa was the one who explained to me that what we were doing was really wrong. She's been with another family for almost a year, but she's still really messed up about the stuff her Dad did. She said that what Mum and Dad did was child abuse. Plain and simple. She wanted to send the police to our house, but I lied to her. I told her that you had run away. I couldn't tell her about magic, you see."

Dudley stopped talking, twisting his hands anxiously in his lap.

"I worried about you this year. I worried that the stuff we'd done was affecting you like it affects Vanessa. And now I know that you've been going through other traumatic stuff as well. No wonder you're such a mess."

"Gee, thanks," Harry muttered, feeling a bit insulted.

"Sorry!" Dudley said, looking panicked.

"I didn't mean it as an insult. I just...you're clearly going through something. I just wish that I could help."

Harry gave Dudley a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, Dud. I know you didn't mean it in a bad way."

Dudley smiled back, handing Harry the food. Harry began eating, trying to pace himself. As he ate, Harry was suddenly struck by a thought.

"This Vanessa...is she more than a friend?"

Dudley blushed brilliantly, running a hand through his blond hair.

"A bit," he whispered, grinning stupidly.

"What about you? Is there anyone special?"

Harry didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't know if Dudley shared his parents' views on this topic.

"Yes," he answered vaguely, hoping that Dudley wouldn't pry.

"What's she like?" Dudley asked, leaning forward excitedly.

That answered that question.

"Ummm….she has red hair."

Harry sent a silent apology toward George for lying about him.

"Is she pretty?"

"Ummm…yes?"

Harry cringed internally, knowing that George would hate being called pretty.

"You don't sound so sure."

"No, I mean, she's attractive. I just don't think of her as pretty."

"Got it," Dudley said, smiling knowingly.

"How far have you guys gone?"

Harry choked on his food, nearly inhaling an entire carrot at once.

"What?"

Dudley smiled mischievously at him.

"So, not far, then. Don't worry, little cousin, you'll get there eventually."

Harry felt his face turning bright red, praying that this conversation would end soon.

It did not.

Dudley felt the need to describe his romantic adventures with Vanessa, including a very graphic description of a snogging session they'd had a few weeks ago.

By the end of the story, Harry very much wanted to pour bleach on his brain.

When Dudley finally left, Harry went back to his Spell-Crafting notebook, trying desperately not to picture Dudley kissing anyone. That was not a mental image he needed. Ever.

…

I'm fine.

Love,

Harry

Aunt Petunia's book club had stopped suddenly, ending Dudley's visits to Harry's room. Harry found himself desperately missing the company, wishing that Dudley would return.

The lack of food was also a problem. Without Dudley's supplementary offerings, Harry was losing weight. Quickly. He was also shooting up in height. Quickly.

It was a terrible combination, and Harry did not appreciate it. Not in the slightest. In the last few days, He'd become too tired to do anything but stare at his ceiling waiting for his next rations.

The only break in the monotony came when something would trigger his memories, thrusting him back into the Department of Mysteries, leaving him unable to breathe, unable to think. It happened far more often than he would like, compounding his exhaustion.

It had gotten so bad that Harry took to spending most of his time as an owl, taking refuge in the mind of his bird form. Emotions were less strong as an Animagus, less overwhelming.

He knew it wasn't a permanent solution, knew that it wasn't going to fix him. He also knew that if he didn't stop the flashes of memory, he would go crazy.

As soon as Sirius was free, he would help. Sirius would be able to help.

Harry missed his godfather terribly, missed his voice, missed his smile. He hoped that Sirius was alright, that he wasn't too lonely. Harry knew what loneliness was like. He didn't want that for Sirius.

When his mind got too loud, Harry would imagine what Sirius would say, imagine what stupid joke he would make. It always helped, quieting the demons in his mind just a little.

When that failed, Harry would think of George. He would think of the way he smiled, the gracefully lazy way he walked. Harry wished George could be here, wished it desperately.

…

Everything is fine.

Everything was not fine.

Harry was struggling. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get out.

He couldn't do this anymore…

He couldn't…

…

Everything is fine.

…

Everything is fine.

…

On July 23, just two days before Sirius' trial, Harry was disturbed by footsteps approaching his bedroom. His Aunt flung the door open, sneering at Harry's prone form.

"There's someone here to see you. Get downstairs."

She sniffed derisively at him, stalking from the room. Harry struggled to sit up, dragging his exhausted body out of bed.

The last week and a half had been awful. Truly awful. Harry was so tired, so lonely, so empty.

He took a minute in the mirror, trying unsuccessfully to tame his hair. He avoided looking at his reflection too closely, knowing that he looked sick. He felt sick.

He trudged down the stairs, wondering who had come to see him. He entered the kitchen, nearly tripping as he caught sight of who was at the table. It was Severus Snape, wearing Muggle clothing and looking particularly annoyed.

He looked up as Harry entered, brow furrowing as he took in Harry's appearance.

"Sit down, Potter."

Harry sat, trying not to stare at his professor. He had never seen the man wear anything other than black before. Seeing him in dark blue was strangely jarring.

"I have something for you."

Snape reached into his pocket, drawing out a glass vial full of a silvery Potion.

Harry stared at the glittering liquid. Was this what he thought it was?

"This Potion will prevent the Dark Lord from possessing you. It will not completely cut off the connection, but it will allow you to maintain complete control over your own actions."

Harry opened his mouth to ask how it worked, but Snape cut him off.

"Do not ask me how it works, Potter. It was incredibly difficult to make, far beyond your ability to comprehend."

Harry closed his jaw with a snap, feeling a bit awkward.

Snape sighed, looking exasperated.

"It was Weasley who made it possible. In order to avoid the side effects of the other Potion, we had to rely heavily on light magic. Magic that is tied to feelings of love. We could not block the connection entirely without using the same ingredients that nearly killed you a month ago. This was the best possible compromise."

Harry took the vial from Snape, enthralled by the shimmering Potion. It was beautiful.

"It needs to be taken once every three days. There shouldn't be any side effects."

Harry nodded, downing the Potion in a single gulp. To his surprise, it tasted nice, sweet and fragrant.

"Does this mean I can go outside?" Harry blurted out, desperation impeding his tact.

Snape glared at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Obviously."

Harry grinned, excitement filling him at the prospect of fresh air and sunshine. Snape continued speaking, clearly oblivious to Harry's joy.

"Unfortunately, you will likely still experience visions from the Dark Lord. For that reason, we will be continuing Occlumency."

"We?" Harry asked, failing to disguise his surprise.

"Yes, Potter. We. The Headmaster is a very busy man, and I have just recently gained quite a bit of free time. We will resume your training as soon as you arrive at Grimmauld Place. I believe it should be any day now. Your month is almost up."

It was. He just had to wait until the 26th. Three more days.

"I hope your presence will liven the place up a bit. Lupin has been pining for weeks. It's horribly depressing. Even the Weasleys can't seem to cheer him up."

Harry stared at his Professor, struggling to hide his shock.

"You're staying at Headquarters?"

Snape nodded sharply, displeasure clear on his face.

"Unfortunately, yes. My home was destroyed after the Dark Lord told the rest of the Death Eaters of my true allegiances. It is safer under the Fidelius, so that is where I am staying."

"I'm sorry, Sir. About your house."

Snape snorted dismissively, rising to his feet.

"Do not be sorry, Potter. It was an ugly place."

Snape paused at the door to the kitchen, turning back to look at Harry.

"I must thank you, Potter. I would have been killed had you not discovered the Dark Lord's plans."

Harry was surprised. Snape had never said something that nice to him before.

"It's no problem, Sir."

Snape sneered at him, all signs of thankfulness gone.

"Don't let it go to your head, Potter. It's big enough as it is."

There. That was more like Snape.

Harry followed his professor to the door, intending to show him out. The man paused on the threshold, glancing back at Harry.

"Oh, by the way, there is someone waiting for you at the park down the road. He insisted that I tell you."

Harry watched Snape apparate away, wondering who could be waiting for him.

He walked out the door hesitantly, wishing he could openly hold his wand. It was safely tucked in his pocket, but Harry wanted the comfort of the wood in his hand, wanted to feel the magic thrumming in his blood.

He scanned the street, looking for any sign of the guards that he knew must be watching the house. Seeing nothing, he extended his magic out into the road, searching for the sound of his guards' magic.

He found it. Four distinct melodies floated toward him, beautiful and comforting. Harry stood for a moment, absorbing the sound of magic. He'd missed this.

Feeling more secure, Harry set off down the road, drawing in deep breaths of fresh air as he walked. He listened to the birds, relished the brush of wind on his cheeks, revelled in the freedom of open sky and bright sunlight.

He'd missed this.

He made it to the park, stopping dead when he caught sight of who was waiting for him.

George Weasley was sitting on one of the swings, red hair glinting in the light, brown eyes searching the street. He caught sight of Harry, rising to his feet and moving forward. Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't quite believe that George was real.

The other boy reached him, standing barely a foot away, taking in Harry's appearance.

For a moment, they simply stood there, watching each other.

Then, George closed the gap between them, wrapping Harry in the tightest hug he'd ever experienced. Harry returned it without hesitation, clinging to the first bit of physical contact he'd had in nearly a month.

They stood there for several minutes, oblivious to the world around them, too caught up in each other to notice Uncle Vernon's car as it passed the park, too distracted to see the way the man's eyes narrowed, disgust coloring his face.

George finally released him, pulling back to stare at Harry's face.

"You look awful," he whispered, cupping a hand under Harry's chin and twisting his face gently from side to side.

"Are they even feeding you?"

Harry shrugged, not wanting to talk about this right now. He just wanted to enjoy George's company.

"They are."

"Clearly not enough," George growled, dropping his hand, anger growing in his eyes.

"I should go give them a piece of my mind…"

"No," Harry said, grabbing George's hand, pulling him back.

"No. It's just three more days. Then I'll be at Headquarters and everything will be fine."

George said nothing, still looking like he wanted to march to Number 4 and punch someone.

"Please, George. I don't want to think about them. I want to hear about what's been going on. Please."

George sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Fine. But if I ever meet your uncle, you'd best believe that I'm going to hex him."

Harry laughed, dragging George back toward the swings.

"I certainly won't stop you."

They sat down, hands linked together as they swung back and forth gently.

"I've missed you."

George sounded sad, forlorn. Far from his normally cheery self.

"Me too."

George reached into his pocket, pulling out a large stack of letters, handing them to Harry.

"It's been terrible not being able to write to you. Dumbledore told us that your Aunt said no letters, but I still wrote to you. Nearly every day. I thought you'd want to know what's been happening, so I wrote everything down for you."

Harry stared at the letters, tracing the familiar handwriting with his eyes.

"This is…"

George blushed, looking down at the ground.

"I know it's stupid, but I just...I wanted to talk to you so badly. And I couldn't…"

"It's not stupid," Harry said, shaking his head.

"It's brilliant. It's...Merlin, George. You're brilliant."

Harry found himself blushing as well, cursing his sappy nature.

"Smooth, Harry."

The voice sounded from a nearby shrub, causing Harry to drop George's hand and whip his head around.

"Tonks?" he asked incredulously, gazing at the innocent-looking leaves.

"Yes, but don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to interact with you."

Harry gaped at the place where he now knew Tonks to be, completely stunned.

"Have you been spying on us?"

She giggled, voice carrying on the warm breeze. George was also laughing, clearly finding this entire situation highly amusing.

"Of course. I would have brought popcorn, but the smell attracts Death Eaters. Or so I'm told."

By this point, George was laughing so hard that he'd fallen off his swing, gasping for breath in the grass below.

"You two make me believe in love again," she said, putting on an air of mock despair.

"Shut up," Harry muttered, wishing he could sink through the ground and hide from the terrible teasing of Tonks.

She'd been like this during dueling training as well, constantly making jokes about Harry's relationship with George.

"I hate to break up the party, but you need to be going back, Harry. The guard is going to be changing soon, and we don't want you being unprotected even for a second."

Harry nodded, standing up from the swing.

"Alright."

After hugging George goodbye, Harry set off back to Privet Drive, letters clutched in his hand, Tonks trailing behind him.

He should have known something was wrong from the moment he stepped inside.

It was too quiet.

Harry was oblivious to the unnatural silence, already enthralled in George's first letter, entranced by his words.

He was broken from his reverie by a heavy hand grasping his collar, slamming him hard into the wall. Harry dropped the letters, scrabbling at his uncle's fist, trying to break the man's hold.

"You dare! In my house!"

Vernon was furious, veins popping out of his neck, face purple with rage. He hit Harry hard across the face, causing his head to smack into the wall behind him.

"You dare bring your unnatural deviance near my son!"

Harry had no idea what his Uncle was talking about.

"I saw you! In the park."

Oh no…

Harry was hit again, stars popping up in front of his eyes as his uncle's fist collided hard with his jaw.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia said, holding up one of the letters Harry had dropped.

Harry stared at his Aunt, hoping desperately that she was about to intervene, praying that she would save him.

"It's even worse than we thought. They seem to be in some kind of relationship. They seem to think they're in love."

She screwed up her face at Harry, pure loathing in her eyes.

"It's disgusting," she spat at him.

"You deserve to be punished for this."

Uncle Vernon took that as his cue, resuming his attack on Harry. As the assault continued, Harry forgot that he was a Wizard, he forgot that he had a wand.

He felt like a little boy again, helpless and terrified.

At some point, he'd fallen to the ground, crumpling under the tirade of blows. All he could do was wrap his arms around his head, curling in on himself.

"Dad...STOP!"

Dudley had arrived, pulling his father away from Harry, using his considerable strength to push his father up against the wall, holding him back.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Dudders," Aunt Petunia said, smiling sweetly at her son.

"Your father is just dealing with a problem. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" Dudley said incredulously, looking between his mother and father like they were insane.

"Dad could've killed him!"

Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed, gaze turning toward Harry, watching as he struggled to pull himself off the ground, leaning heavily on the stair railing.

"What've you done to him?"

Harry shook his head, vision swimming.

"Nothing," he choked out, struggling to speak around the blood filling his mouth and dripping from his nose.

"Liar! You're using your freakishness on him! Why else would he be defending you?"

"Dad…" Dudley said, trying to reason with his father.

"I want you out."

Aunt Petunia's voice cut through the noise, sharp and haughty. She marched over to Harry, grabbing his arm and dragging him up the stairs.

"Get whatever freaky stuff you've been hiding in this room and get out. I don't want you here anymore."

Harry turned to his Aunt, pleading with his eyes.

"Please, Aunt Petunia…"

"Don't call me that," she said icily, glaring daggers at him.

"We're not family! I could never be related to someone as disgusting as you."

Harry stared at this woman who had always hated him, not understanding why her words hurt so much.

"Please…"

Before Harry could finish speaking, he felt a sudden change, a sudden loss, a sudden absence of magic.

It took only a moment for him to realize what had happened.

The Blood Wards had fallen.

Welcome to the Sequel!

Chapter 2: The Battle of Privet Drive is coming on Tuesday.