Chapter 11: Lessons, Ideas, and Promises
Harry's "feeling" had been right. Ginny and Hermione had jumped at the chance to learn more about music, and even Ron had looked surprisingly eager. Harry was a little puzzled by his friends' strongly positive reactions.
I know why I want to do this – I felt so good, so alive when I was singing at the audition, and getting into the choir just felt wonderful... I wonder if they're dreaming anything like I'm dreaming?
It didn't matter, though. What mattered was that they wanted to learn, and Remus was willing to teach them.
"Let's start at the beginning," Remus said, tapping the blackboard he'd conjured in the music room with his wand, so that five closely set horizontal lines appeared on it. "This is the staff on which music is written. A staff will have a marker on it, called a clef, to tell you if the notes it shows are high or low – treble or bass."
Another staff appeared below the first. The top was marked with a treble clef, the bottom with a bass. Two lines on the left, one straight, one curved, joined them. "This is a grand staff. Most musical scores are written on one of these. Questions so far?"
Harry shook his head. Hermione was taking careful notes as usual, filling the lines of her staff with tiny precise words. Ginny was scribbling something in her margin. Ron seemed to be fascinated by the notations on the board, leaning forward as if he wanted to memorize them.
"Good." The board cleared itself and filled with a set of things that looked like lower case P's and D's. "These are the notes. They tell you how long to keep playing or singing. In general, the more ink is used to write one, the less time you stay on it."
It went on from there. There were terms that sounded like math, terms that sounded like Quidditch, and terms that sounded like nothing Harry had ever heard before. Yet the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Everything added up in musical notation; everything had a meaning, and that meaning was clear if you just thought about it a little.
Wish I could say the same about my life.
"Now, do you want to try actually singing something?" Remus asked, opening the piano. "I'm not much of a pianist, but I can pick out a tune."
"Like what?" Ginny asked.
"We should probably start simple. How about 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'?"
"I think I can do that," Ginny said, tossing her hair back.
"Start on this note, then," Remus said, pressing one of the keys.
"What note is it?" Ron asked. He had his eyes closed and his head at an odd angle, as if he were trying to remember something he'd learned long ago.
"Middle C. Ginny, on the count. One, two, three, four..."
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Hermione and Harry applauded for her as she blushed.
"Nice work," Remus said. "You have a good natural voice, Ginny. Ron, do you want to go next?"
Ron was still off in his own little world, eyes shut, muttering something to himself.
"Ron?"
Ron jumped. "Oh. Sorry. Ah, sure." He stood up. Remus played an F for him to sing from and gave him a four-count.
Harry stared at his friend. As Ron took his first breath to sing, he seemed to change, almost to be transformed. His usual slouch was replaced with a centered, erect posture Harry remembered from the choir audition at Carrington. His face became a mixture of concentration and joy. And where Ginny's voice had been thin and sweet, like lemonade, Ron's was warm and rich, like hot chocolate.
Harry had once seen a picture of himself on a broomstick. The look on Ron's face while he sang was almost the same as Harry's expression in the photo. Harry wondered if Ron, too, felt that he had suddenly found something he could do without being taught, something easy, something wonderful...
Hermione seemed to be holding her breath. Ginny's eyes were fixed on her brother. When Ron finished, they both applauded wildly. Ron grinned sheepishly and sat down quickly.
"That was very good, Ron," said Remus, smiling at him. "Very good indeed."
Harry felt a touch of an unfamiliar emotion.
Am I... jealous?
"Musical talent would seem to run in the family," Remus went on. "Do any of your brothers play or sing?"
Ginny nodded. "Fred likes the drums. He's pretty good. And George was always messing with this old guitar he found in the attic."
"I don't know if he can actually play the thing or not, though," Ron added. "Mum put a Silencer on their room specifically targeted to music, so she could hear if they got in trouble but we wouldn't have to put up with them practicing."
"D'you think he'd teach me?" Harry asked, making up his mind in an instant. "George, that is. If he can play. You think he would?"
"Harry?" Remus asked in an odd voice. "Did you just say you want to learn to play the guitar?"
Harry was surprised by Remus' expression. "I guess so. Why? Would it be a problem?" He looks... I don't know, worried? Disturbed?
Amused?
"Not a problem. Not exactly. That is, not at all." Remus shook his head. "Sorry, I guess I'm out of practice teaching. Class dismissed."
Hermione groaned. "I didn't even get a chance to sing!"
"Yeah, what about us?" Harry whined in a little-boy voice, grinning.
"Later," Remus said firmly. "Go do something else for a while. You'll think better afterwards."
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Harry went upstairs to get his copy of Dorm Hall. As he tiptoed back down the stairs, he was struck with an idea.
-----
"Remus?"
"What is it, Harry?"
"I was wondering about the portrait of Mrs. Black. About getting it down."
Remus sighed. "Harry, you know as well as I do, Permanent Sticking Charms are, well, permanent."
"So the portrait is permanently stuck to a piece of the wall. Why can't you just cut that piece out of the wall?"
Remus laughed, a little sadly. "Oh, Harry..."
"What, wouldn't it work?"
"Do you have any idea how much like your father you just sounded?" Remus smiled. "That was always Prongs' way. If there isn't a door there, make a door."
Harry shivered a little. He wasn't sure if he liked being compared to his father.
Remus went on without noticing. "I think it's worth a try, at any rate. Go warn the others there may be some noise."
"Some noise" was an understatement. Mrs. Black screamed bloody murder when her portrait fell to the hallway floor. Amid her shrieks of "Filth! Freaks! How dare you remove me in my own home!", Remus maneuvered the thing (and the section of wall on the back) up the stairs and into the attic, where he dropped it face down. There was one last howl, and blessed silence fell.
Harry removed his fingers from his ears and gave Remus the thumbs-up.
"Good," Remus said, removing the earplugs he'd enchanted for this job. "You know, that was really the last obstacle to making this house truly livable again. Maybe we can do something about that now."
"How do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Well..." Remus hesitated. "Harry, what are the others doing?"
"I think they're reading," Harry said. "The girls anyway. Don't know where Ron is." It was only half-true. He didn't know where Ron was, not for sure, but he had last seen his best friend in the general vicinity of the music room, and with the Silencing Charms on the walls, Ron would be unlikely to notice if the house was attacked by Death Eaters while he was in there.
Probably need to change that. Maybe see if there's such a thing as a one-way Silencer.
"Good." Remus seemed distracted. "Harry, there's something we need to discuss."
"Oh, not again," Harry groaned, trying to make a joke out of it.
It worked, at least partly, as Remus chuckled lightly. "Yes, I'm afraid so, again. Join me?"
Harry nodded, and they made their way down the stairs and into the front room. Harry curled up on the window seat again, with Remus on a couch beside it.
"It's about Sirius," Remus began.
Harry flinched. The memory still hurt to look at, hurt to touch. He wondered when he'd start dreaming about it again.
Remus nodded in sympathy. "I know, Harry. Neither of us has healed yet. We probably won't for a long time. But life must go on, and we need to deal with some matters now. Are you aware that Sirius made a will?"
"No."
"He did. He named Professor Dumbledore his executor, so the Headmaster plans to come out either later today or tomorrow to read the will. I don't know exactly who he left bequests to, or what they are, but I'm sure you're named. Quite possibly as the primary beneficiary."
"But – I don't need gold. I don't need anything." Except my godfather back. The one thing I can't have.
"I know that. Sirius knew that. I remember him mentioning your attitude towards money once while he was writing. Right before he mentioned something else."
The pause was so long that Harry looked up. Remus seemed to be carefully regarding the opposite corner of the room, and Harry felt a wild desire to shout, Look at me! You wanted to talk to me, so look at me when you're doing it, dammit!
"He asked me to take care of you, Harry," Remus said finally. "He may well have written it down in the will, but he asked me directly that day. And I agreed. I can't be your legal guardian – Umbridge made sure of that – but if you need someone, I am always here. Always."
He turned around, and Harry saw his face. For the first time he could remember, Remus' expression was easily readable, and what Harry saw stunned him.
He cares about me.
He cares about me. Not The-Boy-Who-Lived, or the son of his best friend. Me. Harry Potter.
And he's afraid I don't care about him.
"Thanks," Harry said quietly, trying to let his face and his tone say everything his words couldn't, say how much this meant to him, how much he needed someone to care, and how much he cared in return. "I appreciate that. I really appreciate that."
Remus smiled again as he had when he had first seen Harry in the doorway of the music room. His face almost literally glowed.
Harry couldn't help smiling back. Some of the weight on his shoulders was gone, now that he knew there was someone at least willing to help carry it.
"Another thing I wanted to ask you about, Harry," Remus said, still with a small smile on his face. "You told Professor Dumbledore yesterday that you didn't feel like a child any more. So what do you feel like?"
"Confused," Harry said without missing a beat, and Remus laughed.
Harry smiled a little ruefully. "I know, it sounds funny, but I mean it. I don't know what I am. I'm not an adult legally, and I don't know how to act like one, but I can't be a child any more. Not when I know..." He stopped, biting his lip. Remus didn't know about the prophecy.
"Is it something secret?"
"Yeah."
Remus regarded him for a moment. "If I had to guess," he said carefully, "I would guess that Dumbledore told you this secret. Would I be right?"
Harry nodded.
"Would I be breaking any rules if I asked him about it?"
"I dunno. Don't think so." Harry was already falling into the dreary cadences of the same thoughts he'd been having for weeks. I have to kill or be killed. There's no way out. I either have to die, or I have to be a murderer...
Without even realizing it, Harry drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face in his knees.
Dying might not be so bad. No more pain, and seeing Sirius again, and my parents...
But if I die, Voldemort wins. I can't do that to everyone.
So I have to kill. I have to do to him what he wants to do to me.
But doesn't that make me just as bad as he is?
"I never wanted to be The-Boy-Who-Lived," he said aloud, feeling tears of frustration start to come. "I never wanted to be in any prophecy. I never wanted any of this. Why me? Why me?"
He knew there would never, could never, be an answer. He had tramped this mental path too many times in his lonely nights at the Dursleys, when he couldn't shut the thoughts and emotions out any more with reading or studying. No one could answer his questions. His insides felt tied in knots.
"Harry," said Remus' voice behind him, and he jumped. He had literally forgotten the presence of another person in the room. A hand touched his shoulder gently. "Do you want an old werewolf's opinion?"
"You're not old," Harry protested automatically.
"Thank you. How about it?"
Harry shrugged. "Sure."
"Harry, no one knows why or how prophecy works. Personally, I believe prophecy works partly because we believe it does, and many prophecies have been rather creatively interpreted with the use of hindsight. I assume this is the prophecy we already know partially, which names the one with the power to vanquish Voldemort?"
Harry nodded.
"In that case, you are important in part because Voldemort believes you are. He will concentrate on you to the exclusion of much else that he should be paying attention to. And that will be his downfall. Also, consider this, Harry. He has no friends, only servants, and they serve him out of fear. You inspire people, unite them, lead them, not just because of your scar, but because of what you have done, what you have chosen to do, with your life. You fight the Dark Forces every time you encounter them."
"I had help," Harry said dully. "I always have help."
"Of course you do. Only a fool fights alone, Harry, and you're no fool. Take Neville Longbottom for example. I understand he fought very well at the Ministry."
"He saved my life," Harry admitted. "He poked Macnair in the eye with Hermione's wand."
"Could he have done that, do you think, if you hadn't encouraged him to think more of himself, to have confidence, over the months the DA was active? This is exactly what I mean, Harry. You helped Neville, and Neville saved you. You have the power of friendship on your side. Voldemort lacks that."
Sibyll Trelawney's voice echoed inside Harry's head.
He will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
Something inside him eased a little.
"Besides, there's a name for what you're doing right now, Harry. It's called 'borrowing trouble'. I think we have enough trouble around without borrowing any, don't you?" Remus' tone was matter-of-fact, as one man to another, reminding his fellow not to do something foolish.
Harry nodded. Feeling a little clumsy but wanting to show he understood, he put his hand on top of Remus' on his shoulder and squeezed it awkwardly. The hand clasped his, squeezing back, before releasing him.
The knot in his chest untied a little more. Remus cared about him. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione cared. The rest of the Weasleys and the DA cared. He wasn't alone.
Maybe at the end it will have to be just him and me. But it's not the end yet.
"We kind of got off the topic," Harry recalled, letting down one knee and resting his chin on the other, as Remus sat down again. "We were talking about me being an adult."
"That's right. And how you were confused about it."
"The problem is, I don't even know where to start. What to do. Or what not to do. I always figure out what's childish – five seconds after I do it!"
Remus laughed aloud. "That, I'm afraid, Harry, is a human trait the world over. But I do have a suggestion for something you can do, if you want to show you've truly put your childhood behind you."
"I'm listening."
"You remember I suggested you write a letter to Professor Snape about your feelings on the incident with the Pensieve last year."
Harry snorted. "You really think he'll read anything from me?"
"That depends on how you write it. If I recall correctly, he demands clarity, brevity, and completeness in his essays. Stick to the same three principles in your letter, and he may well read it. I also think you should write to your relatives and tell them, politely, how you feel about the way they treated you."
"What for?"
"Far too many adults, Harry – naming no names – allow things that happened when they were children to get in the way of work that must be done now. I think if you at least make an effort to forgive and forget, you won't regret it."
Harry winced. Remus was saying, indirectly, that if he, Harry, didn't start letting go of his grudges, he was going to end up like Snape – bitter and taking it out on anyone he could.
Truth hurts, they say. Damn but they're right.
Whoever "they" are.
"Can I think about it a while?" he asked.
"Of course."
Mrs. Weasley appeared at the door. "Here you are!" she said crisply. "Would you mind telling me why there is a new door in the front hallway?"
"Harry found a way to get rid of everyone's least favorite witch," Remus said, getting up. "We simply removed the wall the portrait was attached to."
"Damaging the house in the process," Mrs. Weasley said severely, but her lips were twitching. "Alastor is here, Remus, he'd like a word. In the kitchen."
Remus hurried out with a brief smile for Harry.
"Harry, dear, I haven't had a chance to ask," Mrs. Weasley said, coming into the room. "Are you all right?"
Harry considered the question.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I think I am. Or at least I will be."
Mrs. Weasley sighed. "That'll have to do, I suppose," she said, embracing him for a moment. "Come on, then, lunch will be ready soon."
"Lunch sounds good," Harry said, realizing with some surprise that he was hungry.
Remus is right. Life has to go on.
He recalled something similar Hagrid had said once.
What's coming will come, and we'll have to meet it when it does.
Silently, Harry made a promise to himself.
When it comes – I'll be ready.
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(A/N: This was a tough chapter to write. I kept getting lost on tangents. Hope it came out all right. I know there's a lot of soul-searching and heart-to-heart talks in the story so far, but I think that's what Harry needs now, and for a wonder, the people around him are actually giving him what he needs. Don't worry, there will be some action soon.
emikae: That's the problem with dreams. You wake up. ::sigh:: Nope, no future-dreaming here – Carrington's not a real place in Harry's world. The dreams are Harry's idea of "what life would be like if I were normal". He needs one place where he doesn't have to deal with life and death situations, and Carrington is it, though it is shaped by the events of his real life (example, Remus being his guardian instead of Sirius or his parents). Yes, a lot like the "I woke up at Hogwarts" fics, I would guess. (I haven't read any – suggestions for good ones?) I had fun writing the conflict between the two Harrys in Chapter 6, which was minorly revised today to fix a mistake.
MAndrews: Who needs reality when fiction is so much more fun? Thanks!
harryp123: Thanks. I love your reviews... so economical.
cleo2rox: Wow! A newer member than me! Thank you for your enthusiasm, but I don't want to be responsible for any deaths... And if you want me to e-mail you with genealogy stuff about Home At Last, I need your complete address. Should I just use your listed one on your profile?
And for everyone who hasn't noticed, my author info page contains an update schedule, where I state clearly when I will post updates. Extenuating Circumstances remains a "floater" story, which will be updated whenever I get the chance. The other two, I'm trying to keep to schedule on. So please don't pester. The updates will go up on time unless something extreme happens.
Thanks everyone, I love you all! Please, if you read, review! Even if it's short, I love to hear from you!)