I do not own Harry Potter, the Wizarding World, or any canon characters.
The Family that Chooses You
Chapter 14 – Confession and Acceptance
Harry laid in bed.
It was late, well into night. He could hear the snores of his roommates around him, the other first year boys in Gryffindor. Most nights, the boys would chat about their day briefly before one by one they would draw the curtains on their beds. They had all fallen asleep fairly swiftly.
He had not.
His mind was in turmoil. He constantly thought about what happened that day. Being attacked by the older boys, hearing the word that was the root of his deepest insecurities and fears. Getting hurt. His knee still tingled. He knew it had been healed, and he marveled at how wonderful magical healing was, but it still bothered him. Madam Pomfrey had assured him that was normal. His leg still bothered him though.
He was not embarrassed about being rescued by Katie, or physically being carried by Angelina. He knew he was small, something that was made much more apparent since arriving at Hogwarts. Before he could only compare himself to Dudley and his cousin was very large in both size and stature. So were Dudley's friends. Now that he was around all sorts of kids, Harry knew he was very small compared to them.
He knew he stood no chance against the older Slytherins that had attacked him. He also knew they were older, knew more than him. Any fight between them could only end in one way. If anything, he was lucky to have been saved when he was. Before things could get very bad. He was a little surprised that he tried to fight back.
Fighting back never worked well for him before.
Freak.
He sniffled. It had been weeks since he was last called that. He had gone years where he was called a freak every day, usually many times a day. When he first arrived to Hogwarts, he kept waiting to hear it, kept waiting for someone to call him that. Then he realized he was surrounded by people that was like him. He thought being here meant he was safe from being called one.
A freak among freaks.
He sniffled harder. Hearing the word today, after weeks of reprieve, made it hurt worse. It had gone straight through him when Grimshaw called him that. The word sank deep into his heart before erupting out the other side, leaving him hollow and raw. Every time he tried closing his eyes to sleep, he heard him say it again, heard them say it again.
He sniffled harder. Hearing the word today, after weeks of reprieve, made it hurt worse. It had gone straight through him when Grimshaw called him that. The word sank deep into his heart before erupting out the other side, leaving him hollow and raw. Every time he tried closing his eyes to sleep, he heard him say it again, heard them say it again.
You're such a freak, the other freaks call you one.
Tears began to run down his face. He shivered despite the covers. He desperately wanted to sleep, to forget the day. He could earlier, but only because of the potion Madam Pomfrey had given him. Only because Katie and Angelina were there beside him. They helped him feel better. They helped keep the bad thoughts away.
They think you're a freak too.
"No they don't," he whispered desperately. "They said they care about me."
They lie.
He whimpered out loud, then clapped his hands over his mouth. One of the boys snorted sleepily, before sinking back into deep sleep. Afraid to wake them, to have them see him like this, Harry crept out of his bed. He walked slowly on the tip toe to make as little sound as possible, something that he used to do all the time.
He crept down the stairs and into the empty common room. It was cold now, the fire gone. During the way and evening the room looked warm and inviting. In the dead of night, in the absence of light, it was a somber place devoid of warmth.
Harry huddled in a chair by the empty fire. He had foolishly thought it would retain some kind of heat. Or perhaps he could pretend that he would be warm there. It did not. It felt cold, the fabric stiff and unyielding. It seemed to suck the warmth away from him as he sat in it.
He brought his legs up wrapping his arms around them. The thin over large cast-off bed clothes felt even thinner than ever. He buried his face into knees, uncaring of how his glasses dug into his face. He wept. He allowed himself a little noise down here, in the vast empty room. The silence here was oppressive and he tried to do something to keep himself from drowning in it.
Words tried to rise out of him but he kept them forced down. After years of being screamed at for saying them, after the beatings, the punishments, he had learned to not say them. He learned to not even think them. Thinking them made things harder for him. Wanting to say them made the pain worse.
You know better than to say the words. You know what will happen if you say them.
He did know.
No one will listen to you. If you say them, the opposite will happen.
He sobbed harder. He was so confused. In a moment of weakness, he did say the words today. He said them when he was in pain, his mind broken by the feared other word. He had begged two of the kindest people he knew, really the first and only two people that had shown him any warmth at all. He had said the words expecting them to act like the Dursleys, to ignore them. To punish him for saying them.
But they didn't. They did what he asked. Later they did not make him regret the words. They told him that he could trust them. They were the only people that actually did what the words meant. No one had done that before, ever. Not teachers, not other adults, and certainly not the Dursleys.
He knew he was alone in the common room. He used to say the words out loud to himself when he was locked away. Sometimes saying the words made him feel better. He used to pretend someone was listening. He used to imagine that someone had heard him and followed through.
Now that he knew what it was like for someone to listen, it made his past hurt more than they ever did. He wanted to forget so he could not be reminded, to go back to how things were when he was ignored when he spoke. Yet he also craved the feeling again, he hungered for it.
In the end, he could not help himself.
"Help me," he whispered to no one. "Please, help me."
-0-
Unknown to the boy, he was not alone in the Gryffindor common room.
Two figures, much smaller than Harry in size and stature, but much more-healthy looking by their standards, peered at him from the corner they were hiding in. They had been cleaning the room, something a lot easier when there were no students actively making it messier. They did it every night when the students were sleeping. They dispensed the trash, wiped the surfaces, refreshed the pillows and blankets and quilts, cleaned the fire place, and made the room nice and comfortable.
They had hidden when Harry crept down the stairs. It was not the first time they were interrupted. Many times, students would wander downstairs for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes the pair would wait for them to leave or would continue their job in more surreptitious ways. If they were mostly finished, they would leave, vowing to return when they could.
They were both concerned when they boy started to cry. Again, that was not something entirely new to them. Many times, they found students overwhelmed, trying to relieve some stress and strain. Most of the time, the student would leave after they had a moment to release pent up emotion.
However, this was the first time the pair had seen a student like this. So lost. So utterly broken.
"Do we fetch Mistress McGonagall?" Inky the House Elf asked her companion. "The boy cries for help."
Fanny bit her lip. "He does not ask for her."
"He does not ask for anyone," Inky argued. "He needs help."
"Of course he does," Fanny almost snapped. "Fanny did not say he not get help."
"Then why not Mistress McGonagall?"
Fanny could not say why exactly. She had seen it before, where the young were embarrassed when confronted by adults. In times of emergency the Head of House was called for. This situation was very different. The House Elf could almost taste the pain rolling off of Harry. It needed something that the Head could not provide. She was sure of it. "He needs another."
Inky almost stomped her foot in frustration. "Then who?!"
Fanny sniffed. She breathed deep. "There is one here, in the tower. I can smell her magic on him."
Inky did the same. Her large eyes popped open. "Oh! Yes, Inky knows her. Long hair, like butter?"
"Yes! Go get her, carefully. Fanny will watch the boy."
-0-
Katie woke up, shivering. At first, she had no idea why she was awake. It had taken a while before she had fallen asleep. She had replayed the day in her mind again and again. One moment she was filled with anger, wanting and wishing she did worse to Grimshaw and the other Slytherins. Then she would be saturated in sadness, seeing how small and hurt Harry was. When he had almost admitted that the Dursleys had not treated him well, she had hated being right. At least he confirmed that they said terrible things to him, things no one should say to anyone, much less a child.
The tumult of emotion had made finding sleep very difficult and she was a little annoyed at her mind for waking her. Then she realized it was because her covers had been pulled away and her curtains left open.
She frowned. She never went to bed without securing her curtains at school. She was also told she was a notorious cover hog so she would never kick them away. Then she noticed that the door to the dormitory that she shared with the other second year girls was open ever so slightly.
Before she could become afraid, she heard a noise. It was very soft and faint, and it came up from the stairwell. It somehow grew in volume, just loud enough for her to hear it clearly. It was a familiar sound. A sound she had heard just earlier that day. Then three words.
She got out of bed and walked down the stairs, sure of what she would find.
Katie was getting sick of being right about some things. She crossed the room swiftly and knelt by a sobbing Harry.
"Harry, are you okay?" she whispered.
The boy started. His sobs had hidden her footsteps and he was completely unaware that she had approached.
"I'm sorry for scaring you," she said immediately. Her hands rested on his shoulders. "Are you hurt? Does your leg still bother you?"
He shook his head. He tried to hide his face from her.
She used the end of her pajama sleeve to wipe his tears. "Hey, it's okay. It's me. You don't have to hide."
He sniffled and looked away from her, but stayed still. "I couldn't sleep," he said lamely.
"Thinking about today?"
He nodded.
"That's understandable." She felt awkward. She did not know what to say. She wanted to say all sorts of things. She wanted to help him. She did not want to make things worse.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"You have nothing to apologize for Harry. Really, you don't." She thought for a moment. "Do you remember what I said earlier?"
He looked at her confused. Then he spoke hesitantly, "You said I can trust you. That I can ask you anything."
"That's right." She waited.
"Are you mad at me for getting you in trouble?"
"No."
"Are you mad because you had to help me?"
"No."
He felt a little better. "Do you…really care about me?"
"Yes." Her heart broke a little with every question. It was good that he was asking them, since he was asking them of his own volition, for his own confirmation. Everyone needed reassurance after all.
The way his face looked with every answer, plain naked relief, was painful to see. It was an expression that he should have never had to make with these questions and answers.
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Am I a freak?"
She sat in the chair beside him and pulled him to her. She hugged him tight and he did not fight back. "Never."
He started to sob again. It was a release of pent-up emotion, of finally hearing what he needed to hear. It was the sobbing of one that found an answer they had sought out for ages. It was balm and poison all in one. A balm that soothed a deep never-ending ache. A poison that made one realize the pain they experienced because of the answer.
Katie just held him.
She blinked. The fireplace was suddenly lit. Clean fresh logs crackled as if they burned for hours despite things being cold and dark mere moments ago. A welcome warmth flooded over her and Harry. He clung to her, still lost in his tears.
She understood what happened. She realized why she woke like that, why the fire started literally by magic. "Are you still there?" she whispered over Harry's crying.
A long moment passed before two heads popped up over the end of the chair. Large ears flopped over the arm rest and large eyes looked at her. They held concern for Harry and appreciation for Katie.
She sighed with relief. "Thank you," she said. "Could you help me with something?"
The heads nodded eagerly.
"Please go to the third year girls' room. Can you see if Angelina will come down? She has dark skin and long black hair."
"Inky knows who," one of the House Elves said. "Inky smells her magic on the boy and you."
"Oh that's handy." And a little creepy. "Thank you."
-0-
Angelina woke, ready to punch.
"Benjy! You know I hate being woken…up…like that?" She looked about, confused. Her sleep addled mind slowly caught up when she realized she was at Hogwarts, incredibly far away from home. Her brother would not be at Hogwarts with her, so there was no way he would have woken her up by grabbing her foot.
She heard a squeak of fear and saw a blurred form go running out the dormitory door. Angry, she really did hate it when someone grabbed her foot when she was asleep, and curious, she followed swiftly after.
"Come back here you-oh!" She stopped short as she ran into the common room. She had expected it to be empty, having seen the time as she had run out of the dormitory. She was unprepared for a fire in the hearth, two shaking House Elves running from her, and Katie and Harry in a chair.
She crossed swiftly to her friends. "Is everything okay?"
"I found him here," Katie said softly. "Still bothered by what happened."
"Well that makes sense. I'm still bothered by it and it technically didn't happen to me." She gently rubbed Harry's back.
He looked up, wiping his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up too?"
"You didn't wake me up," she said soothingly. She grunted in surprise when the boy wrapped his arms around her neck too, but she hugged him readily.
"Sorry, that was me," Katie said sheepishly. "I figured you'd want to help. Since you were there and all. Plus, I think he needs it."
"Don't be sorry. You're right. I want to help whenever." Angelina saw the two House Elves peering at her from around the chair. "I guess I should apologize to the one that came and got me though. In my defense, I hate it when someone grabs my feet like that."
"Inky tried to wake you like the Butter-Hair," Inky grumbled. "You ignored everything."
"I'm a bit of a heavy sleeper yeah," Angelina said with a blush. "Next time, just tap me on the shoulder or something."
"Butter-hair?" Katie asked.
"Fanny and Inky bake during the day," the other House Elf said. "Your hair is very yellow and soft. Like good butter."
"Oh. Thank you…" Katie felt oddly complimented.
The two House Elves curtsied and drifted away from the two girls and the boy.
Katie gently shook Harry. "Do you want to ask Angelina anything?" She watched as he did, asking the tall girl the same questions he had asked her. She saw Angelina's heart break just like hers did. She heard Angelina give the exact same answers.
They held him together as he calmed down. After the downpour of emotion, he was exhausted. He yawned, his eyes drifting shut.
"You should get to bed," Angelina said gently.
He nodded and rose slowly. He started to walk up the stairs but paused and looked back at them. "Can I ask another question?"
"Of course," Angelina said while Katie nodded.
"I can trust you two, right?"
"Yes," the girls said in unison.
"You won't…lie to me?"
"Never," they said emphatically.
His smile of relief shattered their broken hearts.
He said good night and waved shyly before he trudged up the stairs. He had barely slipped into bed before he fell asleep completely.
Katie hugged Angelina after they heard the door to his dormitory close. "Thanks. Sorry I woke you up."
"Hey don't be." Angelina hugged her back. "You're right. I want to be there for him. Just know I'll do the same though."
"Anytime."
The two stared at the dark staircase.
"He's really starting to listen to us, right? He's starting to open up to us?" Angelina asked softly.
"I think so." Katie sighed. "At least, I hope so."
"That's good then."