Note: Thank you to everyone for all the support! I may or may not write a sequel to this work, but I feel like this is the best way to end it. There are so many ways to branch off from here! Hope everyone has enjoyed it!
The final week of term was usually a time of excitement that every student looked forward to. The days after exams were spent outside on the lawns relaxing in the summer sun. Nights were long, stretching almost until dawn, joking and laughing with friends. It was when they savored their remaining time together before boarding the train back home.
This year was no different for some. The mandrake potion had been a success and those who had been petrified were making a full recovery. Anticipation ran rampant through the corridors as friends waited impatiently to be reunited, but for one group the excitement was over shadowed by a somber reality.
Harry had been stuck in the Headmaster's office for over a week and despite his pleading had not been allowed to rejoin his classmates. Professor Dumbledore had also been absent since their meeting with the Minister. He had left no reason other then that he would explain everything on his return. It gauled Harry to not have any idea what was going on around him.
Laughter floated up through the open window and his fingers tightened around the copy of the Daily Prophet he had been lazily scanning. He had made it a habit to look over every paper in hopes that he might come across some sign of Voldemort's movements. So far his efforts had been in vain.
Crumbling up the thin paper, he tossed it across the room in frustration. He rose to his feet and began to pace the office as his thoughts whirled with ludicrous ideas of what Voldemort was doing. Not knowing was the root of his anger but it was greatly increased by the simple fact that Dumbledore didn't seem to trust him. Why else was he being kept hidden away?
Another round of laughter interrupted his brooding, and something inside him snapped. Turning wildly to the door, he seized the handle and began to twist frantically. If Dumbledore wanted him, then he could damn well come find him. Unfortunately, the handle didn't budge. For a long moment he stared down at the brass knob, to shocked to comprehend; then, the floodgates holding back his anger broke unleashing a wave of pure rage.
He hammered his fist painfully against the unforgiving wood, unsure what he hoped to accomplish. When it was clear he would not be able to break it down, he spun on his heel and marched back towards the desk. A mixture of anger and betrayal churned inside him, feeding his burning desire to destroy everything around him.
He took several deep breaths as he reached the edge of the desk, hoping to still the beast clawing at his chest. Professor Dumbledore had a reason for all of this, he assured himself; but deep inside him a small voice of doubt resonated up to shake his confidence. Grabbing a small glass ball from the Headmaster's desk, he hurled it towards the door with an angry cry.
The ball struck the wall just as the office door was pushed open. Professor Dumbledore stood in the frame, eyebrows raised as glass fragments ricocheted around him. He blinked and then casually stepped into the room as if unaware that he had nearly missed being hit in the head.
Harry's face went from angry, to shock, to embarrassment all in quick secession. His eyes followed Dumbledore as he shed his traveling cloak to a nearby hanger and then seated himself behind his desk. Opening his mouth, he was prepared to offer up some sort of apology, but the Headmaster waved him off and instead motioned for him to take a seat.
"Being cooped up in this office day after day isn't easy," he said with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "And I am sure that my lack of explanation has made it that more difficult."
"The truth is," Dumbledore continued with a weary expression. "I have been hesitant to share my theories with you because that is all I have, theories. I have found no sufficient evidence to reinforce any of my speculations. However, I promised you answers and I am a man of my word."
The Headmaster straightened in his chair and Harry mirrored him, anticipation coursing through his veins.
"You know, of course, that Tom Riddle used the diary to bring himself back from within the pages. Sometime in his seventh year he had deposited part of his soul inside the book as a security net should his body ever be destroyed. All he required was for someone to write in it and he could let his charm do the rest. He had an incredible knack for drawing people in."
"Tom could have easily survived, and even thrived, without finding his future self, but I fear that joining the two has brought him back stronger than ever."
"Is that why he could touch me," Harry asked hesitantly.
Professor Dumbledore stood with a sigh and began to pace behind his desk. He ran a hand over face, contemplating his next answer.
"This is where we set facts aside and dive into speculation, " Dumbledore clarified. "Your mother's sacrifice still protects you which is why I haven't the slightest idea why he didn't feel pain when touching you. If you had been the one writing in the diary…"
"I-I did," Harry interjected, suddenly remembering when he had found the diary in the girl's lavatory.
Professor Dumbledore came to a stop and turned a pondering look towards Harry. He stroked his long white beard as he surveyed him for a brief moment.
"How long did you spend writing in it?"
Harry hesitated, his mind working hard to remember exactly how long he'd sat in his bed writing to the invisible person.
"I only had it for a few weeks," he explained. "I asked about the Chamber of Secrets and Tom showed me how Hagrid was arrested. Someone stole it the next day." By someone, he meant Ginny but he couldn't bring himself to say her name.
"You only wrote in it that one time?"
Harry nodded and remained silent. He could see Professor Dumbledore running this new information through his mind, piecing it together with what he already knew. After a minute, he shook his head.
"It shouldn't have been enough to create a connection," he muttered more to himself than to Harry. "If you would have spent every night writing, then possibly…"
He trailed off and then looked up to Harry with an apologetic smile. Reclaiming his seat, he eyed Harry over his steepled fingers.
"In truth, Harry, it matters not why Voldemort is able to touch you. You will be safe at your Aunt and Uncle's this summer. I plan to take you there myself after…"
"I can't take the train," Harry asked in disbelief. "But Hermione and Ron…"
"Will understand," Dumbledore interrupted. "Returning to the rest of the students right now would not be in your best interest."
"Why," he asked defiantly though he had an idea of what the answer would be. Realization had struck him during one of the days he had spent alone, pacing the office; however, he needed to hear it from Dumbledore.
The Headmaster's lips pressed together in a thin line as a look of pity overtook his facial features.
"To save you from answering the questions that are still circulating the school."
"Like whether I killed her?"
His voice cracked and he quickly turned away to avoid those piercing blue eyes. Shaking his head, he tried to imagine the accusation that were being thrown around. How could anyone think that? But then he remembered the rumors that had followed him since the first attack on Fitch's cat.
"The truth will come out, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore trying to reassure him. "It will just take time."
"What about Ron," he asked, clearing his throat of a lump that was trying to form. "And the rest of the Weasley's?"
"They know what happened and how you put your life on the line to rescue their daughter. They have asked to visit you several times, but I wanted to make sure you were ready."
Harry forced his gaze back to meet Dumbledore's, fighting back the tears that prickled his eyes. He wanted so badly to see them, to explain, but the guilt still buried inside him bubbled up, consuming his desires.
"I can't…" he trailed off and then shook his head again. The Weasley's deserved an explanation; they deserved a chance for closure. "I'd like to see them."
"That settles it then," Professor Dumbledore said with a soft smile. "We will go to the Burrow before I take you back to Private Drive. First, however, we must get you a new wand."
Sudden relief washed over Harry, cooling one of the many worries that were burning in his chest. He had felt completely naked without his wand since his escape. Several times he had found himself searching for it despite knowing it was gone. Having a new one would at least give him some form of defense should he need it.
And that is how Harry found himself standing on the doorstep of the Burrow two days later, new wand stowed safely in his pocket. Mr. Olivander had been quite upset with the fact that Harry had lost his former wand, but was no less helpful in finding a replacement. Harry had to admit he held some disdain for his new wand; he had been very sentimental with his original; however, he understood that it was something beyond his control and he would need it over the summer.
"Are you ready," Dumbledore asked softly, pulling him from his reverie.
Harry stared ahead at the peeling red paint on the old door and nodded. Anxiety had been building since he had agreed to the visit, but he shoved it aside, knowing that they needed this, he needed this.
Mrs. Weasley answered the door a few seconds after Professor Dumbledore's short knock. She was drying her hands on her floral apron that was tied loosely around her waist. She froze mid wipe and stared down at Harry, a indiscernible look pulling at her face. Then, she pulled him into a tight embrace.
For a minute, Harry just stood there limply as silent sobs radiated from her body and then he melted.
"I'm sorry," he choked past the lump in his throat. He wrapped his own arms around her as the tears streaked from his clenched eyes unhindered. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner."
"Shh," she soothed, rubbing circles on his back. Despite her own overwhelming grief, she was still trying to comfort him.
"Molly," Mr. Weasley's voice came from behind her. "Let's go inside."
She nodded into Harry's hair but it was a long minute before she broke away. When she did, her eyes were puffy but she offered him a reassuring smile.
"Of-of course," she stuttered past her hiccups. "C-come in."
Harry and Professor Dumbledore both stepped into the small kitchen and followed the pair into the sitting room. Taking a seat on the sofa, Harry took a moment to glance around the room. Hed only been in there once, but its quaint atmosphere made it feel like home. His eyes landed on a family photo above the mantel and he quickly looked away, knowing all to well that he wasn't ready to see her smiling face.
Mr. Weasley perched himself on the arm of his wife's chair and looked at the pair. The smile he was wearing was forced, easily discernable by the bloodshot eyes that reflected his sadness.
"How are you, Harry," he asked in concern, but even that was forced.
Harry nodded and tried to find his words. "I'm okay," he finally settled on, though that wasn't entirely truthful. "I owe you both an explanation-"
"You owe us nothing," Mr. Weasley interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Despite pressure from the ministry, we know you had nothing to do with Gi...with what happened. "
Harry looked away as Arthur reached up to wipe away a tear that had began to zigzag down his cheek. It was hard enough seeing Mrs. Weasley cry, but this was torture.
"We would also like for you to come stay with us for summer holidays, " he said after clearing his throat.
Harry spun a surprised look to the pair now beaming at him. Spending the entire summer with them meant not worrying about food and actually completing his summer homework. The idea of not having to deal with the Dursley's neglect ontop of everything else made his heart soar.
"Of course, he must return to his Aunt and Uncle's for the first couple of weeks," Professor Dumbledore interjected.
"Yes, yes of course," Mr.Weasley agreed as if he'd merely forgotten to mention it.
Harry's spirit deflated a bit at this, but he could easily handle two weeks with the thought of staying with Ron the rest of the summer.
"I am afraid we must be going,' Professor Dumbledore said as he rose to his feet. Harry followed suit, but something suddenly crossed his mind.
"Where's Ron," Harry asked quickly.
"We asked him to stay upstairs while we talked, " Mrs. Weasley said, dotting the corner of her eye. "I assured him he could come down when..."
The rest of her sentence was lost as a streak of red hair rushed into the room. Ron had apparently been sitting silently on the stairs, waiting for the right time to enter. Sprinting across the room, he grabbed Harry in a tight hug.
"I couldn't get through the rocks," he said, trying to explain everything in one breath. "I'm so sorry. I tried for hours but without a wand..."
"It's okay," Harry assured him. He broke their embrace and stepped back. Ron's face was nearly as red as his hair. "How was Hermione?"
"Bloody upset she couldn't see you, but back to her normal self."
"Ronald," his mother snapped, scolding his use of colorful language.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We really must get you to Private Drive."
Harry nodded and gave Ron a weary smile. He would have given anything to remain there. What would Dumbledore say if he sat down and refused to leave?
"We can talk about it when you come back," Ron said reciprocating the smile.
Following Dumbledore outside, he took one last look at the house behind him. Two weeks; he would be back there in only two weeks. With that thought firmly planted in his mind he was ready to face whatever lie ahead.