iI do not, and will never, own Harry Potter or his world./i
Hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Please feel free to comment!
Reaching his bedroom, Harry slammed the door shut behind him and threw himself on his bed. He recognised what had happened. He had performed Legilimency. The question was: How?
Last year, Harry had discovered that he wasn't what one would call a genius in either Occlumency or Legilimency.
So how had he entered Dudley's mind, reading his worst memories, without even trying to do so? And apparently, without Dudley noticing anything out of the ordinary? For Harry was sure that the vacant, terrified expression on Dudley's face only came from his memories of the Dementors, and what they had made him relive.
The only person Harry knew who could do this was someone he didn't even want to think about.
Only Voldemort could read people this way, with short eye contact, and without them noticing, unless they knew what feeling to look for.
Harry couldn't understand how he had done it, but something about the powers that he and Voldemort seemed to share, had changed. Harry just couldn't conceive why. It was all extremely confusing.
And one of the most confusing questions he asked himself was: Why hadn't this power shown itself earlier? It must have always been there, or at least, it must have been there all time last year. But then why had he been so awful in his lessons with Snape?
If it was really something he shared with Voldemort, who was a master at both Legilimency and Occlumency, then how come Harry had never showed any talent in it? At least up until now.
And then, another terrifying thought crept up into his mind, and filled his stomach with an icy feeling of foreboding.
He had performed magic! Again! But this time he had no explanation, no excuse for it. It had had nothing to do with controlling his emotions, or being in mortal peril. He would surely be expelled now, if not sent to Azkaban.
Any moment now, and owl would be swooping through his window, carrying a request to surrender his wand to Ministry- officials.
This couldn't be happening. Not again. Not while Voldemort was still out there, wanting to kill Harry more than ever.
Nervously, Harry glanced out the window, dreading what he might see. But all he saw flying in the sky were a couple of grey pigeons.
This was unusual. At least ten minutes had passed since Harry had stormed up to his room, and so far there had been no word.
For the next two hours, Harry continued to stare out the window, trying to empty his mind of thought of what might happen.
As his stomach gave another rumble, he remembered that he still hadn't had breakfast yet.
Lost in thought, he walked downstairs to the kitchen. This morning had been nothing short of unusual. Harry had used Legilimency, and the Ministry hadn't detected it. Finally, Harry decided that it must have been a glitch in the network for controlling under aged magic.
The ministry must be in quite an uproar over Fudge's resignation, surely they hadn't been paying enough attention.
Sighing with relief, he thought back of the magic he had performed. Dumbledore would want to know about it. So would Remus. The always wanted to know when something out of the ordinary happened to Harry.
But a little voice inside Harry's head told him not to mention it.
Why would he want to give any more evidence of his already well-established connection with the Darkest Wizard alive? He barely had any freedom left as it was. Surely, if Dumbledore heard about this, he would have Harry monitored day and night. Why would he jeopardize his current situation?
Not to mention the looks his friends would give him when they found out. Everyone would be left wondering if maybe Harry was trying to get inside his or her heads. Harry got enough funny looks as it was.
No, he was going to keep this to himself. Besides, it had only happened once. Maybe it had been just a fluke, a one-time experience. It obviously didn't happen every time he made eye contact, because he had been watching his aunt intently as she talked about his mother. And nothing had happened when he had looked into her eyes.
He would keep it to himself, and if it would happen more often, or at significant times, then he would say something. Perhaps. But not now.
Now that that problem was out of the way, Harry could focus on what he had seen exactly. As he made himself a BLT-sandwich, Harry sat down at the kitchen table; to give some more thought to what he had seen.
His cousin, the almighty, powerful D-Man, terror of Little Whinging, turned out to be Diddykins after all. Harry snorted.
He was torn between and ecstatic feeling of happiness, and something that felt a lot like pity. True, Dudley had harassed Harry for all of his life. Harry could recollect no feelings for his cousin but the desire to take revenge, and a major feeling of dislike, but still.
Harry knew all too well what it felt like to be embarrassed, shot down by a girl you fancy. He knew perfectly what it felt like to be bullied, and his cousin was a master at it.
In his opinion, no one deserved to feel that rotten. Well, perhaps Voldemort, and his followers. He didn't mind Dudley having a crappy time, but it was still a bit of a moral dilemma.
A memory rose up in Harry's mind, of Dudley taunting him with his nightmares about the graveyard and Cedric's death. This would be the ultimate weapon of revenge. Harry finally knew Dudley's worst memories. He could make Dudley cower in front of him without even threatening to perform magic.
But somehow that just didn't feel right, not to mention that he would be stooping to his cousin's level.
The only person Harry could imagine using a person's worst memories against them was Draco Malfoy. And Harry certainly had no desire to do anything Malfoy might do. No. He would not confront Dudley with this knowledge.
Instead, Harry would let Dudley's memories sustain him during his stay at Privet Drive. Dudley hated it when Harry acted like he knew something he didn't. So that's what Harry would do. Every time he would encounter Dudley, he would recall Dudley being bullied, and smile. It would kill Dudley. A little laughter at other people's petty problems, especially of people you dislike, never hurt anybody. And maybe, just maybe, he might let something slip to Dudley's mates. He would have to see how Dudley was behaving, first.
*
When Harry went up to his bedroom that night, he remembered his conversation with his aunt. It had been nothing like he had expected.
Now that he though about it, he did feel a bit silly about thinking his aunt knew nothing of the wizarding world. She mightn't have liked it, but she would have learned some things. And as it turned out, she had.
As Harry remembered the reason to why his aunt had severed all ties with her family, anger bubbled up inside him. 'What kind of person would leave her loved ones, just because their sister happens to be different,' Harry thought. 'Especially when times were so hard, when you didn't know if you would ever see them again?'
'A person who fears for their lives,' answered a little voice, much like Hermione's, in the back of his head. 'After all, betraying loved ones is not new to the world.'
Harry tried to remember at what other times he'd heard stories like this. Of course, during the war against Voldemort, lots of people had betrayed friends and family. But had they done that to protect themselves, or just because they were evil?
Then his mind drifted back to his last year in Muggle-school. In the year, his teacher had spoken a lot about the Second World War, and how families had been torn because of it. He recalled her telling stories about people betraying their mates, siblings, and even their parents to the secret police, in order to protect themselves, and other loved ones.
Although Harry could see where his aunt had been coming from, his anger lasted.
It just wasn't fair. None of it was! It wasn't fair that his mother had been shunned by her sister, just because she happened to be different. It wasn't fair that Sirius had been trapped in a cruel trick of fate and had spent one-third of his life in Azkaban, for a crime he hadn't committed. It wasn't fair that Ron had had the ill fortune of being friends with Harry, was now suffering of brainscarring. And although selfish, Harry though that his fate was the most unfair of all.
His fate caused him to be the only one who would be able to rid the world of Voldemort. Every time he thought about this, rage seethed through him, and he felt like the weight of the world was leaning on his shoulders.
Screaming with frustration, Harry slammed his fist into the wall. Good. It hurt. At least that would numb the pain he felt inside for a little while.
Still raging with the unfairness of it all, Harry went to bed.
*
He woke up the following morning, feeling more tired that he had before he'd gone to bed. Even though he'd had a full night's sleep, he had gotten no rest, because of continuous nightmares. Images of the graveyard, Cedric, Sirius, and his parents had haunted him.
Acknowledging that he would be tired for the rest of the day, he started writing lengthy replies to Ron and Hermione. Although he told them he appreciated their support, he didn't go into what happened that night any further.
As he finished his last letter, he saw that it was already 11:30 AM. He started to wonder how Lupin would get at Privet Drive. Surely he wouldn't try using the Floo, and Apparating would probably give the Dursleys a simultaneous heart attack. Not that he really cared, but it would be hard to explain 3 dead people to the police.
Hoping he would be able to somehow be able to intercept Lupin, Harry hurried downstairs.
When the doorbell rang at ten to twelve, Harry opened the door, worrying if maybe his aunt had invited a friend over.
To his great surprise, he saw Lupin standing opposite to him. And he wasn't wearing wizarding robes, but a Manchester United shirt, jeans, and a pair of trainers. Harry almost failed to recognise his former professor.
'Professor Lupin, is that really you?' Harry managed to say.
'Now Harry, how often have I asked you to call me Remus? And what kind of greeting is that anyway? So, are you gonna ask me in, or will we just stay like this?' Remus answered jovially.
'Yeah, oh yeah, sure, of course, come on in,' Harry stammered. But them, a little alarm bell started to go off in his head.
'Whoa! No. Hold it right there,' Harry said, while drawing his wand. 'How do I know it's really you? Let me ask you something. During my third year, what did I remember when there were Dementors around?'
'That's easy, Harry,' Remus said sadly, but with a weak glint of pride in his eyes. 'You heard your mother pleading to Voldemort for your life. And just to assure you, your dad's animagus form was a stag, as is your Patronus, and your favourite food in the world is anything cooked by Molly Weasley. It's good to see that you will not be fooled easily.'
'Yeah,' said Harry, blushing slightly, 'I guess Moody rubbed off on me a bit. Anyway, come in, can I get you something to drink?'
'Sure, that would be great; I wouldn't mind some of the Muggle-cola. Lead the way to the kitchen, Harry.'
Walking back into the kitchen, Harry decided to introduce Remus to his aunt without holding back any information. After all, she had been truthful to him too, and Harry wondered what his aunt's reaction might be.
'Aunt Petunia,' Harry started, 'I'd like you to meet Remus Lupin. He was one of my dad's best mates, one of the best teachers I've ever had, and he's a werewolf.'
Aunt Petunia shot a look at Remus she usually only reserved for Harry. As Harry noticed this he made a mental note to get Snape and his aunt in the same room one day. They would have a lot in common. Nevertheless, his aunt answered both surprisingly, and to a certain extent, even gracefully.
'Mr. Lupin,' said Aunt Petunia, ' I think I remember your name. You were a prefect when you were in school, weren't you? Along with my sister?'
Remus could only nod in surprise.
'Well, it's been quite the pleasure meeting you,' she continued 'but I have some urgent business to attend to in the living room. If you will excuse me.' And with that, she stalked out of the kitchen.
'Some business to attend to alright,' Harry sniggered. ' She has to make sure none of the neighbours saw you enter the house.'
Remus smiled in reply. 'I gather that you two have talked a bit?'
Harry nodded.
'That's great,' said Remus. 'But what's keeping that drink?'
Harry got two cans of diet Coke out of the fridge, and sat down at the kitchen table, opposite to Remus. After Remus had figured out how to open the can, he looked intently at Harry, and said 'So, now tell me. How are you doing?'
Harry shifted uncomfortable in his chair as he answered. 'I'm hanging in there, really. I'm not getting a lot of sleep, but that's alright, I don't need much sleep anyway. It's just that I'm so bored out of my mind, I don't think about anything but that night, and Voldemort.'
Harry actually felt relieved now that he was talking about this, and he continued.
'I need something to take my mind off things, but I can't perform any magic. I'm afraid that if I don't find something soon, I'll snap. I know you all seem to think that what happened at the Ministry wasn't my fault, but as far as I'm concerned, it was.'
Here Harry stopped and looked up at Remus, only noticing now that he had been directing his speech to the table top.
Remus looked as though he was weighing his words. 'Harry. There's a difference between blame, fault and taking responsibility. You obviously have no problems with taking responsibility for your trip to the ministry. Your friends seem to be taking responsibility for following you. You were afraid for Sirius' life, and you felt you had no choice but to react the way you did. You can take responsibility for that, but that doesn't mean you are at fault, or to blame. Living with 'what ifs' is no life, Harry. You can spend your whole life wondering what would have happened if either you, or any of your friends, had reacted differently. But the fact remains that you didn't. Sirius took responsibility for coming out with the Order to help you. He recognised the fact that something might happen and accepted it. He chose to come because he loved you. Just like you made your choices out of love for him. You blaming yourself for Sirius' death doesn't make any more sense that Sirius blaming himself for dying. We all make mistakes, Harry. Some are big, small or enormous, but they have one thing in common. We need to live with the consequences, instead of letting the consequences consume us. Am I getting through to you, Harry? Am I making any sense?'
Still trying to take in everything Remus had said, Harry nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the table.
'Look at me, Harry,' said Remus. 'Look into my eyes. What you should see is someone who cares a great deal for you. Someone who sees it as his duty to prevent you from letting this event suffocate your spirit. Do you see it, Harry? You are the last living memory of my friends, and a most spectacular young man. Please don't let this thing eat away at you, Harry.' Remus' voice now sounded almost pleading.
As Harry looked into his eyes, he didn't need any Legilimency to see that his friend was telling the truth.
'I'm sorry, Remus,' Harry said. 'I know this must be as hard on you as it has been on me. Thank you for forgiving me for taking your last friend-'
Remus interrupted. 'Don't even go there, Harry. I do not blame you, I never did. So there is no need to forgive you either. However, if you wish to thank me, just take my advice, and enjoy your life. That's all I want for you.'
Eyes brimming with tears, Harry was able to produce a being smile. Having talked about his worries had been the first step, and he felt like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He knew there was still a long way to go, however. He would need time to grieve, accept and forgive, so much Harry understood.
'So, how are you holding up then, Remus?' Harry asked.
'Oh, I'm hanging in there too, Harry. If you want to talk about me, we should probably do that some other time, because I feel I've exhausted you.'
Harry was silently grateful for Remus' answer, because the conversation had drained him emotionally, and he didn't know if he would be able to take any more.
Remus changed the subject to ways Harry might be able to keep himself entertained, and Harry didn't mind that one bit.
They talked for what seemed like hours, and Harry had lost all track of time, when he heard a loud thud upstairs.
A/N: So, what do you think? Personally, I liked the first chapter better, but this all has to be said.
I've edited most of the typo's out, I think. Thanks for bringing those to my attention, knickers!
PiM, G-lova, Lyn: Thanks for reviewing on the Flyboard!
Knickers & harryp: See you around at the RT, I guess! Hope I didn't disappoint you too much with absence of a reaction by Lupin and DD.
Jekl: Thanks for your review. My point wasn't really to make people feel sorry for him, but worst memories usually are a bit sad.
Hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Please feel free to comment!
Reaching his bedroom, Harry slammed the door shut behind him and threw himself on his bed. He recognised what had happened. He had performed Legilimency. The question was: How?
Last year, Harry had discovered that he wasn't what one would call a genius in either Occlumency or Legilimency.
So how had he entered Dudley's mind, reading his worst memories, without even trying to do so? And apparently, without Dudley noticing anything out of the ordinary? For Harry was sure that the vacant, terrified expression on Dudley's face only came from his memories of the Dementors, and what they had made him relive.
The only person Harry knew who could do this was someone he didn't even want to think about.
Only Voldemort could read people this way, with short eye contact, and without them noticing, unless they knew what feeling to look for.
Harry couldn't understand how he had done it, but something about the powers that he and Voldemort seemed to share, had changed. Harry just couldn't conceive why. It was all extremely confusing.
And one of the most confusing questions he asked himself was: Why hadn't this power shown itself earlier? It must have always been there, or at least, it must have been there all time last year. But then why had he been so awful in his lessons with Snape?
If it was really something he shared with Voldemort, who was a master at both Legilimency and Occlumency, then how come Harry had never showed any talent in it? At least up until now.
And then, another terrifying thought crept up into his mind, and filled his stomach with an icy feeling of foreboding.
He had performed magic! Again! But this time he had no explanation, no excuse for it. It had had nothing to do with controlling his emotions, or being in mortal peril. He would surely be expelled now, if not sent to Azkaban.
Any moment now, and owl would be swooping through his window, carrying a request to surrender his wand to Ministry- officials.
This couldn't be happening. Not again. Not while Voldemort was still out there, wanting to kill Harry more than ever.
Nervously, Harry glanced out the window, dreading what he might see. But all he saw flying in the sky were a couple of grey pigeons.
This was unusual. At least ten minutes had passed since Harry had stormed up to his room, and so far there had been no word.
For the next two hours, Harry continued to stare out the window, trying to empty his mind of thought of what might happen.
As his stomach gave another rumble, he remembered that he still hadn't had breakfast yet.
Lost in thought, he walked downstairs to the kitchen. This morning had been nothing short of unusual. Harry had used Legilimency, and the Ministry hadn't detected it. Finally, Harry decided that it must have been a glitch in the network for controlling under aged magic.
The ministry must be in quite an uproar over Fudge's resignation, surely they hadn't been paying enough attention.
Sighing with relief, he thought back of the magic he had performed. Dumbledore would want to know about it. So would Remus. The always wanted to know when something out of the ordinary happened to Harry.
But a little voice inside Harry's head told him not to mention it.
Why would he want to give any more evidence of his already well-established connection with the Darkest Wizard alive? He barely had any freedom left as it was. Surely, if Dumbledore heard about this, he would have Harry monitored day and night. Why would he jeopardize his current situation?
Not to mention the looks his friends would give him when they found out. Everyone would be left wondering if maybe Harry was trying to get inside his or her heads. Harry got enough funny looks as it was.
No, he was going to keep this to himself. Besides, it had only happened once. Maybe it had been just a fluke, a one-time experience. It obviously didn't happen every time he made eye contact, because he had been watching his aunt intently as she talked about his mother. And nothing had happened when he had looked into her eyes.
He would keep it to himself, and if it would happen more often, or at significant times, then he would say something. Perhaps. But not now.
Now that that problem was out of the way, Harry could focus on what he had seen exactly. As he made himself a BLT-sandwich, Harry sat down at the kitchen table; to give some more thought to what he had seen.
His cousin, the almighty, powerful D-Man, terror of Little Whinging, turned out to be Diddykins after all. Harry snorted.
He was torn between and ecstatic feeling of happiness, and something that felt a lot like pity. True, Dudley had harassed Harry for all of his life. Harry could recollect no feelings for his cousin but the desire to take revenge, and a major feeling of dislike, but still.
Harry knew all too well what it felt like to be embarrassed, shot down by a girl you fancy. He knew perfectly what it felt like to be bullied, and his cousin was a master at it.
In his opinion, no one deserved to feel that rotten. Well, perhaps Voldemort, and his followers. He didn't mind Dudley having a crappy time, but it was still a bit of a moral dilemma.
A memory rose up in Harry's mind, of Dudley taunting him with his nightmares about the graveyard and Cedric's death. This would be the ultimate weapon of revenge. Harry finally knew Dudley's worst memories. He could make Dudley cower in front of him without even threatening to perform magic.
But somehow that just didn't feel right, not to mention that he would be stooping to his cousin's level.
The only person Harry could imagine using a person's worst memories against them was Draco Malfoy. And Harry certainly had no desire to do anything Malfoy might do. No. He would not confront Dudley with this knowledge.
Instead, Harry would let Dudley's memories sustain him during his stay at Privet Drive. Dudley hated it when Harry acted like he knew something he didn't. So that's what Harry would do. Every time he would encounter Dudley, he would recall Dudley being bullied, and smile. It would kill Dudley. A little laughter at other people's petty problems, especially of people you dislike, never hurt anybody. And maybe, just maybe, he might let something slip to Dudley's mates. He would have to see how Dudley was behaving, first.
*
When Harry went up to his bedroom that night, he remembered his conversation with his aunt. It had been nothing like he had expected.
Now that he though about it, he did feel a bit silly about thinking his aunt knew nothing of the wizarding world. She mightn't have liked it, but she would have learned some things. And as it turned out, she had.
As Harry remembered the reason to why his aunt had severed all ties with her family, anger bubbled up inside him. 'What kind of person would leave her loved ones, just because their sister happens to be different,' Harry thought. 'Especially when times were so hard, when you didn't know if you would ever see them again?'
'A person who fears for their lives,' answered a little voice, much like Hermione's, in the back of his head. 'After all, betraying loved ones is not new to the world.'
Harry tried to remember at what other times he'd heard stories like this. Of course, during the war against Voldemort, lots of people had betrayed friends and family. But had they done that to protect themselves, or just because they were evil?
Then his mind drifted back to his last year in Muggle-school. In the year, his teacher had spoken a lot about the Second World War, and how families had been torn because of it. He recalled her telling stories about people betraying their mates, siblings, and even their parents to the secret police, in order to protect themselves, and other loved ones.
Although Harry could see where his aunt had been coming from, his anger lasted.
It just wasn't fair. None of it was! It wasn't fair that his mother had been shunned by her sister, just because she happened to be different. It wasn't fair that Sirius had been trapped in a cruel trick of fate and had spent one-third of his life in Azkaban, for a crime he hadn't committed. It wasn't fair that Ron had had the ill fortune of being friends with Harry, was now suffering of brainscarring. And although selfish, Harry though that his fate was the most unfair of all.
His fate caused him to be the only one who would be able to rid the world of Voldemort. Every time he thought about this, rage seethed through him, and he felt like the weight of the world was leaning on his shoulders.
Screaming with frustration, Harry slammed his fist into the wall. Good. It hurt. At least that would numb the pain he felt inside for a little while.
Still raging with the unfairness of it all, Harry went to bed.
*
He woke up the following morning, feeling more tired that he had before he'd gone to bed. Even though he'd had a full night's sleep, he had gotten no rest, because of continuous nightmares. Images of the graveyard, Cedric, Sirius, and his parents had haunted him.
Acknowledging that he would be tired for the rest of the day, he started writing lengthy replies to Ron and Hermione. Although he told them he appreciated their support, he didn't go into what happened that night any further.
As he finished his last letter, he saw that it was already 11:30 AM. He started to wonder how Lupin would get at Privet Drive. Surely he wouldn't try using the Floo, and Apparating would probably give the Dursleys a simultaneous heart attack. Not that he really cared, but it would be hard to explain 3 dead people to the police.
Hoping he would be able to somehow be able to intercept Lupin, Harry hurried downstairs.
When the doorbell rang at ten to twelve, Harry opened the door, worrying if maybe his aunt had invited a friend over.
To his great surprise, he saw Lupin standing opposite to him. And he wasn't wearing wizarding robes, but a Manchester United shirt, jeans, and a pair of trainers. Harry almost failed to recognise his former professor.
'Professor Lupin, is that really you?' Harry managed to say.
'Now Harry, how often have I asked you to call me Remus? And what kind of greeting is that anyway? So, are you gonna ask me in, or will we just stay like this?' Remus answered jovially.
'Yeah, oh yeah, sure, of course, come on in,' Harry stammered. But them, a little alarm bell started to go off in his head.
'Whoa! No. Hold it right there,' Harry said, while drawing his wand. 'How do I know it's really you? Let me ask you something. During my third year, what did I remember when there were Dementors around?'
'That's easy, Harry,' Remus said sadly, but with a weak glint of pride in his eyes. 'You heard your mother pleading to Voldemort for your life. And just to assure you, your dad's animagus form was a stag, as is your Patronus, and your favourite food in the world is anything cooked by Molly Weasley. It's good to see that you will not be fooled easily.'
'Yeah,' said Harry, blushing slightly, 'I guess Moody rubbed off on me a bit. Anyway, come in, can I get you something to drink?'
'Sure, that would be great; I wouldn't mind some of the Muggle-cola. Lead the way to the kitchen, Harry.'
Walking back into the kitchen, Harry decided to introduce Remus to his aunt without holding back any information. After all, she had been truthful to him too, and Harry wondered what his aunt's reaction might be.
'Aunt Petunia,' Harry started, 'I'd like you to meet Remus Lupin. He was one of my dad's best mates, one of the best teachers I've ever had, and he's a werewolf.'
Aunt Petunia shot a look at Remus she usually only reserved for Harry. As Harry noticed this he made a mental note to get Snape and his aunt in the same room one day. They would have a lot in common. Nevertheless, his aunt answered both surprisingly, and to a certain extent, even gracefully.
'Mr. Lupin,' said Aunt Petunia, ' I think I remember your name. You were a prefect when you were in school, weren't you? Along with my sister?'
Remus could only nod in surprise.
'Well, it's been quite the pleasure meeting you,' she continued 'but I have some urgent business to attend to in the living room. If you will excuse me.' And with that, she stalked out of the kitchen.
'Some business to attend to alright,' Harry sniggered. ' She has to make sure none of the neighbours saw you enter the house.'
Remus smiled in reply. 'I gather that you two have talked a bit?'
Harry nodded.
'That's great,' said Remus. 'But what's keeping that drink?'
Harry got two cans of diet Coke out of the fridge, and sat down at the kitchen table, opposite to Remus. After Remus had figured out how to open the can, he looked intently at Harry, and said 'So, now tell me. How are you doing?'
Harry shifted uncomfortable in his chair as he answered. 'I'm hanging in there, really. I'm not getting a lot of sleep, but that's alright, I don't need much sleep anyway. It's just that I'm so bored out of my mind, I don't think about anything but that night, and Voldemort.'
Harry actually felt relieved now that he was talking about this, and he continued.
'I need something to take my mind off things, but I can't perform any magic. I'm afraid that if I don't find something soon, I'll snap. I know you all seem to think that what happened at the Ministry wasn't my fault, but as far as I'm concerned, it was.'
Here Harry stopped and looked up at Remus, only noticing now that he had been directing his speech to the table top.
Remus looked as though he was weighing his words. 'Harry. There's a difference between blame, fault and taking responsibility. You obviously have no problems with taking responsibility for your trip to the ministry. Your friends seem to be taking responsibility for following you. You were afraid for Sirius' life, and you felt you had no choice but to react the way you did. You can take responsibility for that, but that doesn't mean you are at fault, or to blame. Living with 'what ifs' is no life, Harry. You can spend your whole life wondering what would have happened if either you, or any of your friends, had reacted differently. But the fact remains that you didn't. Sirius took responsibility for coming out with the Order to help you. He recognised the fact that something might happen and accepted it. He chose to come because he loved you. Just like you made your choices out of love for him. You blaming yourself for Sirius' death doesn't make any more sense that Sirius blaming himself for dying. We all make mistakes, Harry. Some are big, small or enormous, but they have one thing in common. We need to live with the consequences, instead of letting the consequences consume us. Am I getting through to you, Harry? Am I making any sense?'
Still trying to take in everything Remus had said, Harry nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the table.
'Look at me, Harry,' said Remus. 'Look into my eyes. What you should see is someone who cares a great deal for you. Someone who sees it as his duty to prevent you from letting this event suffocate your spirit. Do you see it, Harry? You are the last living memory of my friends, and a most spectacular young man. Please don't let this thing eat away at you, Harry.' Remus' voice now sounded almost pleading.
As Harry looked into his eyes, he didn't need any Legilimency to see that his friend was telling the truth.
'I'm sorry, Remus,' Harry said. 'I know this must be as hard on you as it has been on me. Thank you for forgiving me for taking your last friend-'
Remus interrupted. 'Don't even go there, Harry. I do not blame you, I never did. So there is no need to forgive you either. However, if you wish to thank me, just take my advice, and enjoy your life. That's all I want for you.'
Eyes brimming with tears, Harry was able to produce a being smile. Having talked about his worries had been the first step, and he felt like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He knew there was still a long way to go, however. He would need time to grieve, accept and forgive, so much Harry understood.
'So, how are you holding up then, Remus?' Harry asked.
'Oh, I'm hanging in there too, Harry. If you want to talk about me, we should probably do that some other time, because I feel I've exhausted you.'
Harry was silently grateful for Remus' answer, because the conversation had drained him emotionally, and he didn't know if he would be able to take any more.
Remus changed the subject to ways Harry might be able to keep himself entertained, and Harry didn't mind that one bit.
They talked for what seemed like hours, and Harry had lost all track of time, when he heard a loud thud upstairs.
A/N: So, what do you think? Personally, I liked the first chapter better, but this all has to be said.
I've edited most of the typo's out, I think. Thanks for bringing those to my attention, knickers!
PiM, G-lova, Lyn: Thanks for reviewing on the Flyboard!
Knickers & harryp: See you around at the RT, I guess! Hope I didn't disappoint you too much with absence of a reaction by Lupin and DD.
Jekl: Thanks for your review. My point wasn't really to make people feel sorry for him, but worst memories usually are a bit sad.