04 August

Hullo Again,

Nothing much happened this week, though I've been keeping myself pretty busy. Dudley's been completely off his diet since Tuesday, as a reward for, of all things, good grades. Good meaning only that, for once, he passed all his classes.

That's about all that's happened, I guess. The muggles haven't laid a hand on me, so no need to worry. It's actually been a bit of a relief not to have a guard this summer, much as you all worried. Actually, the Dursley's and I have reached a bit of an agreement. I'm getting certain freedoms on the condition that no-one wizard-looking shows up here. So, I'd actually prefer if no-one dropped by, or came to get me this year. Oh, and, on that note, if someone could pick up my school supplies, I would really appreciate it. I'll see you all on the train.

-Harry

Ever since Remus had written Harry and asked about it, the letters had been much more informative. Informative, that is, when compared with the two-sentence notes sent to the Order the first two weeks of summer. Harry's letters never discussed anything particularly personal, but Remus could grant his young friend some room on that. After all, the notes were perused by nearly the entire order, and Harry knew that. He would hardly pour his heart out into such a letter.

It was different with the letters Harry wrote to his friends, Remus was sure, even if he'd never actually seen one of those letters. The werewolf very much wanted to be a part of his best friends' sons' life, but he knew that doing so would require writing a letter of his own. Not just a hey-can-you-write-more letter, like the one he'd managed to send, but a real heart-to-heart sort of letter. It wasn't that Remus had intended to put the letter-writing off all summer, it just… happened that way.

The first few weeks, he was dealing with Sirius' death. Remus didn't think he could do anything to help Harry until he'd sorted through things for himself. He'd finally started feeling put together by the beginning of July, only then Dumbledore'd had a mission for him. By the time he returned, it was past Harry's birthday. Remus realized he'd missed his chance. Harry had to have worked through things on his own by now, and if Remus wrote to him, it would only re-open old wounds.

So he'd given up the letter idea, and decided to just try to talk with Harry when he took him to go shopping for his school supplies. Dumbledore had talked Remus into resuming the Defense professorship, and Remus, as part of the bargain, was to take Harry to Diagon Alley the day before term began. Today marked one week until term started, though the letter Remus had just finished was from a little more than two weeks ago.

Remus had asked Dumbledore for all the letters he'd missed while on the Order mission. He wanted to know about the rest of Harry's summer, so he would have a conversation starter that didn't involve Sirius. Much as Remus wanted to remember, he also wanted to forget, and he suspected Harry would feel the same.

Right now, though, he didn't know why he'd bothered. There was so little information in the letters, it wouldn't do him a bit of good. Yet there was something, something in those letters, that was bothering him. Almost as though his subconscious saw a pattern his brain refused to recognize. Something that worried him, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

The next letter was almost the same as the last. It contained, again, a notice that he was still unharmed, and a few meaningless updates on the Dursleys' lives. He mentioned even less regarding himself than he had in other letters, though the length remained the same. It was almost as though he was still writing the two-line letters, and simply filling the space in between with whatever would take up the space.

Curious, Remus turned his attention to the last, most recent letter. Perhaps it would be more explanatory.

Hello Everyone,

All's still well. This week was particularly boring. I actually wish I were working on homework, if you'll believe it. The muggles are helping to keep me occupied, and I'm thankful. They still haven't touched me, so no worries. I guess that threat really worked. Today-

Remus froze. Slowly, he brushed his hand across the paper the note was scrawled on. He could smell it, smell Harry, despite the smells from the hands of half the order. Except that he didn't just smell Harry; buried in his scent were despair, lonliness, and deepest pain. Too-warm and sour, the smell was as strong as though it had been painted on. Remus was at a loss. Surely, if the boy felt like this, he would have written. If something were truly wrong, if Harry was in that much pain, he would have told his friends, right? And his friends wouldn't have kept something like that to themselves. No, surely they would have told an adult, told the order.

Only suddenly, Remus wasn't so certain. He had to know what else had been written. A quick floo-call to Molly and an inventive story later, he had copies of all the letters Harry had written to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He'd told Molly he needed to see the letters for security related reasons, and she had quickly gotten them from the kids. Surprisingly, they'd all been comfortable giving the letters up, mentioning that there really wasn't anything personal in them. And there hadn't been.

Harry had, apparently, not written one truly personal thought to anyone all summer. Not about Sirius, not about Voldemort, not even any real mention of the Dursleys, beyond the simple stories that were the same as those in the order-letters. In fact, the letters Harry wrote to his friends were nearly as repetitive and mechanical as the letters to the Order had been. So much so, that Remus couldn't believe no-one had noticed. Except that he knew that Ron and Hermione had begun dating, and Ginny had been ecstatic to hear from Harry at all.

Ginny had, in fact, been ecstatic enough to keep all the letters in a little magically-sealed box she kept, that was meant to keep things safe from her brothers. In this case, however, the seal served another purpose; it had kept the smell of the letters from fading. And, having only passed through Ginny's hands, it was even more obvious. Even worse, the more recent letters still smelt more of pain and despair, despite the magical preservation. Which could only mean that Harry was feeling progressively worse.

And then Remus found the letter, in the middle, that contained enough emotion to have a slight magical signature. It wasn't enough for the Ministry to track, or to count as underage magic, but it was enough for something else. The letter he held was word-for-word the same as the one given to the order the first week of August. Though it was nearly unknown, there was a spell to discover the intent behind a written word, if the writer had been emotional enough to allow an unintentional outpouring of their magic. It required a skilled Legillimens, as it was closely related to the art, but Remus, as it happened, was exactly that.

His breath caught, for just a moment. This was an invasion of privacy, Harry might never forgive him for this. But he had to. Had to know.

The whispered incantation passed his lips like light and not word, and the paper lit in new meaning.

Dear Ginny,

You know what? I'm just going to copy this from the letter I'm sending the order, because I doubt you'll ever see it, and I'd really hate to have to write the damned thing twice. The order is, after all, exceptional at keeping secrets that don't need keeping. Nothing much happened this week, though I've been keeping myself pretty busy. Not like They would let a summer go by without making use of their slave. There're more chores to do than ever, and they get harder every day. And it took forever to sneak together those ingredients, and manage to brew that healing potion. Dudley's been completely off his diet since Tuesday, as a reward for, of all things, good grades. Which only makes it worse, as I have to cook all the more for him, and watch while he eats enough to ensure I don't get any. There haven't been leftovers since. But I deserve it. I deserve it all. God, Sirius, I miss you so much. I can't believe… I wish I… oh… stop it, Freak, or you'll never get through this letter. Better throw in something to make them think I'm feeling upbeat. What could possibly be funny about any of this? Oh, I know… Good meaning only that, for once, he passed all his classes.

That's about all that's happened, I guess. The muggles haven't laid a hand on me, so no need to worry. Of course they haven't laid a hand on me. They'd never touch a disgusting freak like me. Nor would anyone else, if they really knew. Although Dudley has managed to knock me down, through, and into a remarkable number of things for one summer. Good thing the order doesn't still have a watch set over me, they would surely have noticed that time with the window. It's actually been a bit of a relief not to have a guard this summer, much as you all worried. Oh, better make sure they don't… Actually, the Dursley's and I have reached a bit of an agreement. I'm getting certain freedoms on the condition that no-one wizard-looking shows up here. Those "freedoms" being that they don't kill me outright. Why, oh why did the Order have to threaten them? Vernon made sure I noticed, that first night back, that he still has the gun. So, I'd actually prefer if no-one dropped by, or came to get me this year. If only you'd all kept your mouths shut, maybe I could have been out of here a whole month earlier. Not that I deserve to, maybe at least this will teach me. Keep me from causing more pain, from dooming anyone else. I haven't managed to learn for myself, but perhaps this will be enough to remind me. But how am I even going to get my stuff for school without someone dropping by, and inadvertently getting me killed? Oh, how ironic, that the fate of the wizarding world really rests in the hands of a muggle with a gun. Oh, and, on that note, if someone could pick up my school supplies, I would really appreciate it. I'll see you all on the train. Thank God, another one done. Now I just need to find Hedwig. Huh, 4AM, she should be back soon. So tired… ugh, no, won't sleep. I just… I can't see that again. Not any of it. I'm not sure if the Visions or the Nightmares are worse. Hell, I'm not even sure which is which, anymore.

-Harry Freak

Remus paled. He cancelled the spell, and the letter resumed its original state. With trembling hands, he set down the letter, though he continued to stare at it. Slowly, he dropped his head into his hands, never losing sight of the page before him. He wanted to weep for the boy who was so different from what they all thought, who had, so painfully obviously, not recovered from Sirius' death. Even if Remus hadn't been able to smell the emotions from the letter, the pain of the words was enough to tear at his heart.

He had to get Harry out of there. Had to make him see. Someone had to save the boy-saviour from himself. And it couldn't be Dumbledore, or the Weasleys, who would pity but wouldn't understand; nor Snape, who wouldn't see a problem unless the boy were coated in blood. No, of all the people he could think of, only Remus himself knew, really knew, Harry's pain.