A/N: I intended for Remus and Severus to continue their conversation but then Voldemort wanted in, I said no, he whined, so I had to scold him and send him to bed without supper...and then poor Harry looked so despondent sitting by himself on the stairs...
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
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The Color of Crimson
By Lady of Arundel
Chapter Three: Thoughts on the Stairs
Harry sat perched at the top of the stairs, elbows propped on his knees and chin cradled between his palms.
The young wizard had the house to himself. After the usual bout of ranting and berating at the breakfast table, Uncle Vernon had left for work as if nothing was out of the ordinary. If Harry didn't have the marks to prove otherwise, one might even believe that Mr. Dursley had completely forgotten that Harry would be leaving for school later that very day. Dudley had certainly not forgotten and was already in a panic at the prospect of another meeting with a fully-trained witch or wizard. Breakfast had taken longer than usual that morning as Dudley found himself confronting the vicious dilemma of how to eat breakfast while simultaneously sitting with his hands beneath him so as to cover his rear. In the end Aunt Petunia had resorted to lovingly spoon-feeding her son, casting angry glares in Harry's general direction at the sink all the while. Dudley had only grown more distressed as noon approached, and a distressed Dudley meant a frantic Petunia. It wasn't long before Petunia was dragging Dudley from the house, Harry catching something about shopping and freaks and "Mind yourself!" before the front door had slammed closed.
Not that he minded.
Much.
Nervous fingers played with the fraying jumper cuff. The summer had been unusually hot and lingered still despite the change of the calendar to September. Nevertheless, after changing into uniform once his relatives had made their hasty exits, Harry had pulled on an oversized jumper as a precaution to hide the bruises along his arms and unnatural thinness of his frame from prying eyes. In a pained movement Harry drew his other forearm across his forehead, moping the fevered sweat from his brow. An added bonus of the addition to his wardrobe was that it provided a convenient excuse for his profuse sweating. Better to suffer this mystery illness alone he reasoned (he deserved it anyway), than to add to his guilt by burdening others with his own slight problems.
As to why Harry felt compelled to wear a heavy jumper on a summery day, well, he still had a while to work out an excuse.
Aunt Petunia's precious grandfather clock struck ten. Two hours and a Hogwarts professor would arrive to bring him back to...Harry mentally shook himself, willing himself not to pursue thoughts of the unwanted inevitable.
Or was it inevitable?
What if, when the professor came at their convenience to collect Harry, what if Harry wasn't there to be collected?
It was tempting. He would never have to go back and face the expectations, the accusations, the humiliations...if Harry stayed in the Muggle world, maybe he would never even have to face Voldemort again...Voldemort who had now returned, and all because of Harry.
That led to the final reason why he no longer belonged at Hogwarts, no longer deserved to be at Hogwarts: wherever Harry went, people suffered.
There were the most obvious of Harry's victims: his mother, his father, Cedric. But there were more. How many times had his friendship placed Ron and Hermione in grave danger, all because he was selfish and wanted—needed—them by him. Because of their association with him, the Weasleys had to place extra safety wards on the Burrow. Because of him, Sirius was constantly putting himself in danger of getting caught by the ministry. He wiped his damp forehead.
"Sirius..."
He actually had no idea where Sirius was. The last time he had seen his godfather was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts after...after. Since then there had been no news, no owls, not a word. The only assurance Harry had that Sirius was unharmed was the assumption that if something had happened either Ron of Hermione—most likely Ron—would have let something slip in an owl...Not that he had really heard from them in the last few months, either.
And it hurt that they didn't care. He immediately scolded himself, of course. How dare he have the nerve to expect Sirius to waste his valuable time on him when Sirius had far more important things to do—didn't Harry himself hear Dumbledore charge Sirius with important tasks in the name of cleaning up the mess Harry made? As for his friends, only a week or two into the holiday Harry had received a shyly-composed note from Ron saying it had been decided that it would be best for Hermione to stay at the Burrow for the summer—the headmaster, of course, had forbidden Harry from joining them. It seemed that his two best friends had finally realized what everyone else had known for ages. And Harry was happy for them, truly, but he couldn't help but fear with regret that the days of the trio were over. But, he mused, that was probably for the best...
Yes, it would be for the best for everyone if Harry quietly slipped out of their lives. After everything they had done for him over the last four years, didn't he owe them all a chance at peace and happiness? And maybe if Voldemort didn't see Harry as a threat, maybe fewer people would lose their lives...
Harry slowly stood on unsteady feet and began to make his way down the stairs. Yes, for once he would do the right thing and would stay behind, stay to take his well-earned punishments from Uncle Vernon and stay so that his loved ones would be free to live their own lives. So he would hide himself just long enough for Dumbledore's messenger to glance around and leave; Harry might even have enough time to finish his chores before his relatives returned. Today would be the beginning of his new life as a Muggle. For once Uncle Vernon would be proud of him...
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry faltered for a moment. When they found him out, when those in the wizarding world discovered that he had chosen to run away rather than fight, Dumbledore and the others would be so disappointed in him. Harry leaned against the banister. So disappointed in him for betraying everything that Gryffindor and the Light stood for that they probably wouldn't want him at Hogwarts anyway.
Wasn't that what he wanted?
If Harry stayed in the Muggle world, there would be no more fame, he would be a nobody...which is what he really was, after all. That was the lesson Uncle Vernon had been trying to teach him all these years, the lesson Snape had tried to teach him the last few years. If he stayed he would be forgotten.
Wasn't that also what he wanted?
Hadn't they all forgotten him already?
Making his way to his cupboard, Harry knew he should be ashamed of himself. What kind of Gryffindor ran away from his problems rather than confronting them? What kind of Gryffindor would harbor such shameful thoughts about his friends and elders?
A lonely, hurt, and depressed boy who felt abandoned by those he loved. Rightfully abandoned, but that did little to east the pain.
Harry undid the latch to the cupboard door, gently kneeling in front of his school trunk.
TBC...
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
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The Color of Crimson
By Lady of Arundel
Chapter Three: Thoughts on the Stairs
Harry sat perched at the top of the stairs, elbows propped on his knees and chin cradled between his palms.
The young wizard had the house to himself. After the usual bout of ranting and berating at the breakfast table, Uncle Vernon had left for work as if nothing was out of the ordinary. If Harry didn't have the marks to prove otherwise, one might even believe that Mr. Dursley had completely forgotten that Harry would be leaving for school later that very day. Dudley had certainly not forgotten and was already in a panic at the prospect of another meeting with a fully-trained witch or wizard. Breakfast had taken longer than usual that morning as Dudley found himself confronting the vicious dilemma of how to eat breakfast while simultaneously sitting with his hands beneath him so as to cover his rear. In the end Aunt Petunia had resorted to lovingly spoon-feeding her son, casting angry glares in Harry's general direction at the sink all the while. Dudley had only grown more distressed as noon approached, and a distressed Dudley meant a frantic Petunia. It wasn't long before Petunia was dragging Dudley from the house, Harry catching something about shopping and freaks and "Mind yourself!" before the front door had slammed closed.
Not that he minded.
Much.
Nervous fingers played with the fraying jumper cuff. The summer had been unusually hot and lingered still despite the change of the calendar to September. Nevertheless, after changing into uniform once his relatives had made their hasty exits, Harry had pulled on an oversized jumper as a precaution to hide the bruises along his arms and unnatural thinness of his frame from prying eyes. In a pained movement Harry drew his other forearm across his forehead, moping the fevered sweat from his brow. An added bonus of the addition to his wardrobe was that it provided a convenient excuse for his profuse sweating. Better to suffer this mystery illness alone he reasoned (he deserved it anyway), than to add to his guilt by burdening others with his own slight problems.
As to why Harry felt compelled to wear a heavy jumper on a summery day, well, he still had a while to work out an excuse.
Aunt Petunia's precious grandfather clock struck ten. Two hours and a Hogwarts professor would arrive to bring him back to...Harry mentally shook himself, willing himself not to pursue thoughts of the unwanted inevitable.
Or was it inevitable?
What if, when the professor came at their convenience to collect Harry, what if Harry wasn't there to be collected?
It was tempting. He would never have to go back and face the expectations, the accusations, the humiliations...if Harry stayed in the Muggle world, maybe he would never even have to face Voldemort again...Voldemort who had now returned, and all because of Harry.
That led to the final reason why he no longer belonged at Hogwarts, no longer deserved to be at Hogwarts: wherever Harry went, people suffered.
There were the most obvious of Harry's victims: his mother, his father, Cedric. But there were more. How many times had his friendship placed Ron and Hermione in grave danger, all because he was selfish and wanted—needed—them by him. Because of their association with him, the Weasleys had to place extra safety wards on the Burrow. Because of him, Sirius was constantly putting himself in danger of getting caught by the ministry. He wiped his damp forehead.
"Sirius..."
He actually had no idea where Sirius was. The last time he had seen his godfather was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts after...after. Since then there had been no news, no owls, not a word. The only assurance Harry had that Sirius was unharmed was the assumption that if something had happened either Ron of Hermione—most likely Ron—would have let something slip in an owl...Not that he had really heard from them in the last few months, either.
And it hurt that they didn't care. He immediately scolded himself, of course. How dare he have the nerve to expect Sirius to waste his valuable time on him when Sirius had far more important things to do—didn't Harry himself hear Dumbledore charge Sirius with important tasks in the name of cleaning up the mess Harry made? As for his friends, only a week or two into the holiday Harry had received a shyly-composed note from Ron saying it had been decided that it would be best for Hermione to stay at the Burrow for the summer—the headmaster, of course, had forbidden Harry from joining them. It seemed that his two best friends had finally realized what everyone else had known for ages. And Harry was happy for them, truly, but he couldn't help but fear with regret that the days of the trio were over. But, he mused, that was probably for the best...
Yes, it would be for the best for everyone if Harry quietly slipped out of their lives. After everything they had done for him over the last four years, didn't he owe them all a chance at peace and happiness? And maybe if Voldemort didn't see Harry as a threat, maybe fewer people would lose their lives...
Harry slowly stood on unsteady feet and began to make his way down the stairs. Yes, for once he would do the right thing and would stay behind, stay to take his well-earned punishments from Uncle Vernon and stay so that his loved ones would be free to live their own lives. So he would hide himself just long enough for Dumbledore's messenger to glance around and leave; Harry might even have enough time to finish his chores before his relatives returned. Today would be the beginning of his new life as a Muggle. For once Uncle Vernon would be proud of him...
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry faltered for a moment. When they found him out, when those in the wizarding world discovered that he had chosen to run away rather than fight, Dumbledore and the others would be so disappointed in him. Harry leaned against the banister. So disappointed in him for betraying everything that Gryffindor and the Light stood for that they probably wouldn't want him at Hogwarts anyway.
Wasn't that what he wanted?
If Harry stayed in the Muggle world, there would be no more fame, he would be a nobody...which is what he really was, after all. That was the lesson Uncle Vernon had been trying to teach him all these years, the lesson Snape had tried to teach him the last few years. If he stayed he would be forgotten.
Wasn't that also what he wanted?
Hadn't they all forgotten him already?
Making his way to his cupboard, Harry knew he should be ashamed of himself. What kind of Gryffindor ran away from his problems rather than confronting them? What kind of Gryffindor would harbor such shameful thoughts about his friends and elders?
A lonely, hurt, and depressed boy who felt abandoned by those he loved. Rightfully abandoned, but that did little to east the pain.
Harry undid the latch to the cupboard door, gently kneeling in front of his school trunk.
TBC...