August
The euphoria of living at the burrow soon passed, and Harry soon slip back into his routine of spending hours staring at the ceiling. Mrs Weasley kept fussing over him, but Harry just found it irritating. Hermione was fretting; Ron was concerned but thought it was best to leave Harry to work things out for himself. At night Harry did not sleep. Voldemort and the ghosts visited to torment him.
Remus visited him off and on, though Harry suspected it had as much to do with giving messages about the Order of the Phoenix to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as it had to do with visiting him. He did enjoy the company, however.
There was not much news about Voldemort. Harry got the impression that he was lying low again, waiting to spring his death eaters out of Azkaban now that the dementors had deserted the wizarding prison. There was one night when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Bill and Charlie, had gone out and Fleur was left at home to "baby-zit," as she put it. Harry was almost positive that there was a meeting of the Order. He wondered where the meeting was, or maybe even if he would be able to spy in on it with Remus's birthday gift. However, he didn't bother trying because he knew that Remus wouldn't be so careless as to leave it on during a meeting.
But Sirius would have been, Harry thought with a sad smile.
"Harry. Harry. Wake up" Hermione whispered gently. Harry opened his eyes. The curtains in Ron's room glowed bright yellow, and the air was warm and smelt pleasant.
"I thought you were dead," she breathed. " You've been asleep for over twelve hours!"
She pulled back a little and Harry moved over, allowing her to sit next to him.
"What time is it?"
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "11:00"
A worried look crossed Harry's face. "11:00? Voldemort and Sirius couldn't have kept me for that long."
"Voldemort and Sirius? Harry, are you feeling all right?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Just ignore it."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Harry didn't respond. He just sat there, gazing out the window.
"You know," he said finally, "I think I was destined to be alone and miserable. It kind of fits the Daily Prophet's description of me as a tragic hero. I was born to play the role..." Hermione took a minute to examine Harry. He was dangerously thin
"Judging by how thin you are, it must be more of a difference than that."
Harry laughed coldly. "I eat what I want to eat when I want to eat it. I'm just never hungry. This," he said, gesturing at his body, "is the result."
"How can you NOT be hungry? Do you have some ongoing source of energy inside you?" Hermione exclaimed.
She paused for breath and looked at him
"Harry, sometimes every body hurts, but you're going to have to move on with your life. If you slip into a depression...I don't even want to think about it. You could stop eating properly. You could become bulimic or even worse anorexic!"
Harry commented, turning away from her. "I really don't know why I came back. There's nothing here for me. If you were looking for Harry, he went for a nice stroll in the land of depression and isn't coming back."
There was an awkward silence that followed that statement. It was scaring Hermione how cryptic and cynical Harry was. She wondered where the old Harry was, the happy, adventurous, exciting Harry. This Harry seemed dull, filled with pain, and on the brink of insanity. Then she finally understood. Part of him had died with Sirius and the rest of him was consumed in a deepening depression over it.
If there was one thing Hermione had learned about Harry it was that he wasn't really much of a talker unless it was about Quidditch or Voldemort. He'd been so isolated the first ten years of his life without any friends to really talk to so he just didn't talk. You could tell even in class. He'd know the answer to a question - he just wouldn't raise his hand. Hermione always wondered why he kept all that knowledge to himself. Everyone with eyes could see (well maybe not Snape and the Slytherins) that Harry was smart, even smarter than Hermione when it came to defence and attack, but he just didn't show it.
"Harry what are you talking about?" she said nervously "You belong in the wizarding world. Everyone knows you're smart. How come you don't use that knowledge? Why do you just sit in the back of the class and not raise your hand even if you know the answer?"
"Er - it kind of has to do with my childhood I suppose." Harry closed his eyes, as if searching for the memories. "I'd know the answers but the teachers would never call on me. Every time we switched seats, I'd always sit in the back. No one liked me. I was just different. People don't like difference. There was this really smart girl in my class. She was different too. She had a friend though. I was just alone. Whenever I did better than Dudley in school, I'd get punished. So in the end I just decided to keep silent and I think I just didn't ever try as hard as I used to after that."
"Sometimes," Harry said, abruptly shifting into a much darker mood, "I don't really know who I am anymore. I seem so different from who I used to be. I suppose I'm a little scared what's happening to me. You know how everyone says change is good. What if it's bad?"
Harry, she knew, had never been good at controlling his emotions. They showed no matter what he did. Now it was completely different. Every emotion stayed hidden beneath the surface except for the occasional hint of depression and despair.
"You need to relax more, Harry. You spend way too much time worrying and getting worked up over small things," she said, yet again voicing a thought aloud.
"Hmm. I'll think about it. Ahhh. Not possible, try again," Harry said sarcastically.
Hermione looked a little offended at this.
"I was only trying to help," she whispered.
Instead of flying off the handle like he would have if she had said that only a few months before, his expression merely softened.
"I know you were," he said, his eyes closing and opening again two seconds later "I'm going to stay in bed today" Harry said.
Hermione stared at him blankly, then she sighed. "You're so stubborn!"
Harry didn't say anything until she left the room. "Not stubborn," he whispered after her, "just depressed."
The euphoria of living at the burrow soon passed, and Harry soon slip back into his routine of spending hours staring at the ceiling. Mrs Weasley kept fussing over him, but Harry just found it irritating. Hermione was fretting; Ron was concerned but thought it was best to leave Harry to work things out for himself. At night Harry did not sleep. Voldemort and the ghosts visited to torment him.
Remus visited him off and on, though Harry suspected it had as much to do with giving messages about the Order of the Phoenix to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as it had to do with visiting him. He did enjoy the company, however.
There was not much news about Voldemort. Harry got the impression that he was lying low again, waiting to spring his death eaters out of Azkaban now that the dementors had deserted the wizarding prison. There was one night when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as Bill and Charlie, had gone out and Fleur was left at home to "baby-zit," as she put it. Harry was almost positive that there was a meeting of the Order. He wondered where the meeting was, or maybe even if he would be able to spy in on it with Remus's birthday gift. However, he didn't bother trying because he knew that Remus wouldn't be so careless as to leave it on during a meeting.
But Sirius would have been, Harry thought with a sad smile.
"Harry. Harry. Wake up" Hermione whispered gently. Harry opened his eyes. The curtains in Ron's room glowed bright yellow, and the air was warm and smelt pleasant.
"I thought you were dead," she breathed. " You've been asleep for over twelve hours!"
She pulled back a little and Harry moved over, allowing her to sit next to him.
"What time is it?"
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. "11:00"
A worried look crossed Harry's face. "11:00? Voldemort and Sirius couldn't have kept me for that long."
"Voldemort and Sirius? Harry, are you feeling all right?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Just ignore it."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Harry didn't respond. He just sat there, gazing out the window.
"You know," he said finally, "I think I was destined to be alone and miserable. It kind of fits the Daily Prophet's description of me as a tragic hero. I was born to play the role..." Hermione took a minute to examine Harry. He was dangerously thin
"Judging by how thin you are, it must be more of a difference than that."
Harry laughed coldly. "I eat what I want to eat when I want to eat it. I'm just never hungry. This," he said, gesturing at his body, "is the result."
"How can you NOT be hungry? Do you have some ongoing source of energy inside you?" Hermione exclaimed.
She paused for breath and looked at him
"Harry, sometimes every body hurts, but you're going to have to move on with your life. If you slip into a depression...I don't even want to think about it. You could stop eating properly. You could become bulimic or even worse anorexic!"
Harry commented, turning away from her. "I really don't know why I came back. There's nothing here for me. If you were looking for Harry, he went for a nice stroll in the land of depression and isn't coming back."
There was an awkward silence that followed that statement. It was scaring Hermione how cryptic and cynical Harry was. She wondered where the old Harry was, the happy, adventurous, exciting Harry. This Harry seemed dull, filled with pain, and on the brink of insanity. Then she finally understood. Part of him had died with Sirius and the rest of him was consumed in a deepening depression over it.
If there was one thing Hermione had learned about Harry it was that he wasn't really much of a talker unless it was about Quidditch or Voldemort. He'd been so isolated the first ten years of his life without any friends to really talk to so he just didn't talk. You could tell even in class. He'd know the answer to a question - he just wouldn't raise his hand. Hermione always wondered why he kept all that knowledge to himself. Everyone with eyes could see (well maybe not Snape and the Slytherins) that Harry was smart, even smarter than Hermione when it came to defence and attack, but he just didn't show it.
"Harry what are you talking about?" she said nervously "You belong in the wizarding world. Everyone knows you're smart. How come you don't use that knowledge? Why do you just sit in the back of the class and not raise your hand even if you know the answer?"
"Er - it kind of has to do with my childhood I suppose." Harry closed his eyes, as if searching for the memories. "I'd know the answers but the teachers would never call on me. Every time we switched seats, I'd always sit in the back. No one liked me. I was just different. People don't like difference. There was this really smart girl in my class. She was different too. She had a friend though. I was just alone. Whenever I did better than Dudley in school, I'd get punished. So in the end I just decided to keep silent and I think I just didn't ever try as hard as I used to after that."
"Sometimes," Harry said, abruptly shifting into a much darker mood, "I don't really know who I am anymore. I seem so different from who I used to be. I suppose I'm a little scared what's happening to me. You know how everyone says change is good. What if it's bad?"
Harry, she knew, had never been good at controlling his emotions. They showed no matter what he did. Now it was completely different. Every emotion stayed hidden beneath the surface except for the occasional hint of depression and despair.
"You need to relax more, Harry. You spend way too much time worrying and getting worked up over small things," she said, yet again voicing a thought aloud.
"Hmm. I'll think about it. Ahhh. Not possible, try again," Harry said sarcastically.
Hermione looked a little offended at this.
"I was only trying to help," she whispered.
Instead of flying off the handle like he would have if she had said that only a few months before, his expression merely softened.
"I know you were," he said, his eyes closing and opening again two seconds later "I'm going to stay in bed today" Harry said.
Hermione stared at him blankly, then she sighed. "You're so stubborn!"
Harry didn't say anything until she left the room. "Not stubborn," he whispered after her, "just depressed."