Chapter 20: Potter's People

Arthur Weasley dropped off a stack of case files and evidence reports courtesy of Marina the next morning, and the Gang resigned themselves to trying to get some work done from Grimmauld Place. They saw this as the diversion it was—intended to keep them distracted from the feelings of uselessness— but they begrudgingly accepted it without protest. All they could do was hope that the political climate now that the attacks were out in the open would result in some action. Someone who knew something surely would come forward, right? Arthur had assured them that the case was the top priority in the Auror Office and that a team of Unspeakables were looking into a way to reverse the Trace, but so far, all known methods required knowledge of who the caster was. And so they sat there, drowning in their uselessness. Bloody hell, but this was torture.

The kitchen had been transformed into a kind of office-space for them after breakfast. The Gang sat around the table, casefiles strewn before them. Sometimes they collaborated; sometimes they worked on their own. Potter sat at the table with them, though he was hidden from view by the stacks of books with which he constantly surrounded himself these days. The NEWTs were approaching and the boy seemed be throwing himself into his studies with fervour.

It was not the best workplace, as frequently distraction came blowing through the kitchen in one form or another. As the Gang half-heartedly ruffled through the stack of casefiles after breakfast, Potter was down the table, absentmindedly arguing with his House-elf even as he was frowning at Advanced Potion-Making. Gawain noticed Kingsley quietly watching this interaction between Potter and his elf with a small crease between his brows. His quill was motionless over the parchment he had been working on. It made Gawain glance their way too.

"Kreacher, I really fail to see the problem," Potter was saying, clearly only half focused on the conversation. "It just seems like she's taking a load off your plate. Why don't you just enjoy a little extra time for yourself?"

"Cleaning the second floor bathroom is Kreacher's job!" the elf croaked in indignation, clearly not understanding why Potter was so oblivious to the problem. "Cleaning all the bathrooms is Kreacher's job!"

"Kreacher…" Potter sighed. "Ninky is a guest in this house. If she wants to clean the bathroom for her family, I don't see why you can't just let her clean the bathroom. You don't have to do everything, Kreacher. You can take a break every once in a while. Is scrubbing a toilet really so enjoyable?"

"Kreacher is not so ancient he cannot work! Master is replacing Kreacher with a younger elf and Kreacher won't have it! Kreacher will work until the day his head joins his ancestors on the wall in the hall! All these years Kreacher has faithfully served the noble house of Black and now to be ousted! Master is giving his job to an outsider!"

That got Potter to look up from his book. "Bloody hell, Kreacher…" came Potter's horrified reply. "You do not honestly expect me to decapitate you someday and mount your head on the wall, do you? That's disgusting. And I'm not replacing you! Ninky is bound to the Bones family. She is not going to be here forever. But if she needs something to keep herself busy and finds comfort in cleaning the bathroom for her family, just take the morning off from work and let her do it."

Kreacher squawked in indignation, and Gawain noted Potter wince as he realised he had given Kreacher a direct command unintentionally. The elf Disapparated in a huff and Potter sighed before returning to his book, shaking his head.

But he again did not get far into his studying before another interruption came in the form of the whole Bones family. They seemed to be saying their goodbyes as Susan prepared to take her leave from Grimmauld Place through the fireplace. Potter glanced at them over his shoulder, then hastily buried his face in his book as though he had not noticed them enter.

"I'll be fine, Dad," Susan was saying. "Hogwarts is perfectly safe, and I'm sure the Death Eaters have bigger fish to fry than me."

"I suppose better Hogwarts than here," Edward grumbled. "Further removed from the source of all this mess." He shot a pointed look over to where Potter was keeping his head down over his books and determinedly not looking their way.

Susan did not miss this. She looked at Potter, then back to her father with an exasperated sigh. Then she marched over to Potter resolutely. "Hey, Harry," she said, her nose in the air, paying no heed to the splutter of protest from Edward. Potter jerked his head up to look at her, clearly surprised she was approaching him in front of her father. His eyes darted uncertainly to Edward for a fraction of a second, then back to her as he got to his feet to face her. "I'm off. Thanks so much for letting me stay," Susan said, ignoring the reactions of both men. And then she hugged Potter very deliberately.

Edward was fuming; Gawain was sure steam would be coming out of his ears at any moment. And Potter was definitely not unaware of this. He stood stiff as Susan hugged him, then only very tentatively returned the hug and broke away as quickly as possible. "It's no bother," he assured her. "You're welcome back any time. You know… if you just want to visit your family or whatever," he hastened to clarify as Edward let out an audible growl. Gawain was not the only member of the Gang surreptitiously watching this interaction and bracing for an explosion.

Susan smiled at Potter. "Thanks. Really. For everything. You really are the best. We were so lucky you were there. Don't know where we'd be without you." Her voice was calculatingly loud enough for her father to hear every word.

Potter seemed exceedingly and uncomfortably aware that he was being used in an argument between Susan and her father. His eyes darted back to Edward for a second. "I really… I didn't…" Potter cleared his throat, clearly completely at a loss for what to say that would please both of them.

Susan just smiled at him again. As she turned away from Potter and back to her father, that smile was looking rather smug. She hugged each of her brothers in turn. "I'll be back to visit in a few days," she promised them. "And if you need me, just send word and I'll come right back." Finally, she hugged her father, though he still looked annoyed. "Bye, Dad. Love you."

Edward cleared his throat and swallowed his annoyance. "Love you too, sweetheart."

She tossed her long plaited hair over her shoulder and moved over to the fire. "Oh, Harry!" Potter, who had just been awkwardly lowering himself back into his chair, froze and glanced up again, looking rather like a mooncalf in the wandlight. "It's Thursday, isn't it! Can I tell the DA you'll be back for the meeting tonight?"

"Er…" Potter glanced at Edward, then back to Susan. "Er, yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."

Edward Bones was openly glaring between the pair of them, but Susan continued to ignore this. "Great. I'm sure everyone will be thrilled. I bet they were all disappointed you weren't there last week."

"Yeah… Hermione mentioned that Luna took charge of the meeting and led a review on dark creatures. Probably how to protect yourself from wrackspurts or something…"

"So sorry to have missed that," Susan replied sarcastically.

Potter snorted a laugh. "Yeah. Something tells me most of that review is unlikely to show up on our NEWTs," he agreed.

Susan laughed and nodded. Then, as she took a pinch of Floo Powder she said, "See you tonight then!" and was gone.

Potter was still laughing a little to himself as she left, but the smile slipped from his lips when he noted the full force of Edward's glare on him. Potter hastily returned to his book, and Edward ushered Maxim and Brandon back upstairs in a huff.

Gawain thought it was rather a good thing that Susan had not shown up on the Daily Prophet's list of girls Potter had supposedly dated. He suspected the lad would have been murdered in his sleep if she had.

It was midmorning when the next distraction came. Potter was still wading through Potions texts, and his hair was standing on end even more than usual from all the times he was running his fingers through it. The Gang too were still quietly picking their way through the stack of casefiles. They spoke little, but when they did, Potter ignored them, focusing on his studying.

The fire flared and Hermione Granger stepped out. She looked around the kitchen, caught sight of Potter and moved over to him, sparing no more than a mild smile and a nod to the rest of the Gang. She flopped down in the chair next to Potter in a huff.

"Your best friend is an idiot," she said to Potter by way of greeting.

"Usually," said Potter, blinking up at her dazedly, and casting about for something with which to mark his page. "But why in particular this time?"

"He's flatly refusing to use the study schedule I drew up for him."

"And this is surprising Ron behaviour because…?"

"Exams are eleven days away! And you know what he told me?" Granger lowered her voice in a doltish impersonation of Ron Weasley. "'I mean… we're famous now. I bet the examiners will go easy on us.' Idiot," she concluded with an eye roll.

Potter laughed. "Well, you can tell him, I was pretty famous when I sat the OWLs, and it didn't stop me from getting a 'D' in History of Magic."

Granger smirked. "Well, who cares about History of Magic anyway? You could learn more from reading a book than we ever did from Professor Binns. And you test well in all the subjects that actually matter."

After a brief pause, she pulled out a piece of parchment and held it out to Potter. "I made you one too," she said, sheepishly.

"Oh, great. Thanks. This is really helpful," replied Potter, studying what appeared to be a colour-coded schedule with study times for various subjects.

"Yeah, yeah," said Granger, rolling her eyes. "You're just saying that to stay in my good graces."

Potter glanced at her and smirked. "Well, I can learn from Ron's mistakes, yeah. No, but seriously. Thanks. I'm so behind. I need all the help I can get."

Granger beamed back at him. "Well, I'm focusing on your weaker subjects," she began, scooting her chair closer to his, clearly excited that Potter was letting her explain the chart in detail. "Most of the time is devoted to Potions and Transfiguration because I feel like we got the most behind on those two this past year. I think you're good with Charms, so I only have you focusing on that for a few hours every other day. Same with Herbology. That one could go either way, I suppose, but it's pretty straight forward, really, and you did well on the OWLs. Don't forget to review magical fungi too before the exam."

"You haven't put any time for Defence Against the Dark Arts on here," Potter observed, squinting at the chart.

Granger gave him a condescending look as though the reason for this should be quite obvious. "That's because you could get top of the year in DADA in your sleep, Harry. More important you focus on the other subjects. You'll get enough review during the DA meetings. You're going tonight, right? They're all expecting you."

"Yeah, I said I'd be back this week."

"Well good. I put those on here too," Granger pointed to a two hour block each Thursday evening. "And one hour for you to plan the week's lesson the night before."

Harry studied her, smiling over the parchment. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"I always do." She smiled with mock arrogance. Then she looked at the book Potter was studying. "What are you working on?" She flipped the book so she could read the cover and nodded approvingly. "Advanced Potion-Making is good for the practical. But don't forget to study the theory too. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi is good to review for both Potions and Herbology. And it may seem basic, but going back and reviewing Magical Drafts and Potions is always helpful to make sure you have a firm platform. What?" she paused in her lecture, realising that Potter was quietly chuckling at her.

But he just shook his head and said, "I've missed this, you know?"

Granger gave a self-deprecating smile. "Me lecturing you on how to study?"

"Well… yeah. We haven't really been focused on school for a while. Feels like old times."

She smiled back at him. Then rested her head on his shoulder as she studied the chapter of the book he was on. Gawain suspected this was so Potter wouldn't see the flattered expression on her face.

"What am I going to do at Hogwarts next year without you," she asked after a moment. Her tone had turned regretful bordering on mournful.

"Hey. Cheer up," said Potter bracingly, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "There's still a good chance I'll fail all my exams and end up back at school next year after all."

Granger laughed a little sadly, then got to her feet to leave. "You forget. I have seen you do many a more impossible thing than pass the NEWTs with just two weeks of study, Harry Potter." She backed toward the kitchen door, still facing him. "And something tells me you have more impossible things still up your sleeve." She smiled back at Potter affectionately. "I'm gonna Apparate home. Mum's expecting me for lunch. See you at the DA meeting later?"

Potter watched her go with a smile on his face and, as she turned to open the door, simply said, "Bye, Hermione."

A couple more hours of study for Potter and research into casefiles for the rest of them went by. Potter's hair was looking messier and messier every time Gawain glanced his way. As it was, they were all quite pleased to comply when Amitra instructed them to pack away their work to make room for lunch. The rest of the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were beginning to trickle in, looking for food.

Just as Potter and the Gang were packing away their notes to make room for the sandwiches Amitra was cutting, Ron Weasley blew through the fire in in a huff.

"Mum and Hermione have got to be conspiring together to drive me mad," Weasley fumed to Potter. "They both keep nagging on me to study every second of every day. So what if I need a break from time to time!"

"Whoa now. Oh, no. Nuh uh. No way. You can't both come to me to complain about each other whenever you two start bickering. That would be a full time job. From now on, I'm staying out of it. Find someone else. I refuse to give either of you relationship advice or be your mediator or whatever."

"Since when? I used to talk to you about Lavender!"

"Since my two best friends started dating each other! And Hermione is way scarier than Lavender. I may not always be good at keeping my mouth shut, but I know better than to get on the wrong side of an angry Hermione."

"Oh, but it's all well and good that I used to have to watch you snog my sister?" Several people who had had been previously pretending not to listen to this conversation glanced over curiously at that remark. Ben was frozen halfway into his chair and Amitra was attempting quite unsuccessfully to hide a grin.

Potter had sharply turned to glare at Weasley over the stack of notes he was tucking away to the side table. "Alright, alright. All Ginny talk is taboo. I know the drill." Weasley rolled his eyes.

Weasley was regarding Potter dolefully as Potter turned back to straightening the tower of books he had stacked to ensure it wouldn't come tumbling down. "So Hermione was here complaining about me, was she?"

Potter looked at him tiredly as he turned back to the table to find a seat. "Staying out of it, Ron," he reaffirmed. When Weasley just looked miserable, Potter sighed and said, "But if I wasn't staying out of it, I might suggest that you would do well to let her catch sight of you using the stupid study schedule she drew up for you once or twice."

"Oh. Right. Gotcha." Then after a moment he said, "I actually really could use some help in Transfiguration. I asked Hermione and she went off on me about how… well, anyway…" he trailed off at another hard look from Potter. "Reckon we could study together after lunch for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure. Any particular topic?"

"I was trying to read up on Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Can't make heads nor tails of the fourth principle…"

"Oh, I was studying that last night. I actually think I have it down. I'll grab my notes after lunch."

"Thanks, mate. Oh! Lunch!" Weasley happily helped himself to a sandwich off the platter Amitra had slid into the centre of the table and plopped down in the seat next to Potter. Potter smiled at him knowingly and grabbed one for himself.

"I do not miss school exams. You lot are reminding me how exhausting they were," commented Kingsley, smiling as he too helped himself to a seat and a sandwich. "I remember being particularly nervous about Tranfiguration. But I think that may have just been because I was secretly a little terrified of Professor McGonagall back when I was at school."

Potter grinned and Weasley barked a laugh. "That's fair. She's pretty damn scary. Unless, of course, you happen to be her favourite student. But you know… We can't all be Professor McGonagall's favourite suck-up." He was looking at Kingsley as he spoke, but he jabbed a thumb pointedly in Potter's direction.

"I do not suck up to Professor McGonagall!" Potter shot back indignantly. All around the table, people were taking their seats and tucking into lunch, but everyone was looking to Weasley smiling in anticipation of a good behind-the-scenes look into the life of the Boy Who Lived.

Weasley grinned seemed thrilled that Potter had taken this bait. He put on a thick mockery of a Scottish accent and began speaking as dramatically as one might expect from an actor in a Muggle soap opera. "Oh, Potter! Yeh stole a broomstick when Madam Hooch specifically told yeh not to fly and chased down Draco Malfoy! Let me rewrite the school rules so I can give yeh a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team! And while I'm at it, I may as well go and buy yeh a racing broom and send it to yeh like a secret lover! Oh Potter! Yeh stuck your wand up a mountain troll's nose? How clever of yeh. Five points to Gryffindor! Oh, Potter! Yeh have a Quidditch match this weekend? How 'bout I give yeh the whole week off with no homework! Oh, Potter!" He was fanning himself dramatically as though he were about to faint with desire. "Yeh shouted at Professor Umbridge and called her a liar? Here! Have a biscuit! HAVE ALL THE BISCUITS!"

"Alright, alright!" Potter cut in, a blush on his cheeks, as everyone around the table laughed at Weasley's theatrical impersonation. Potter too was laughing at Weasley's antics despite some level of embarrassment. "You've made your point! And for the record, that is not how any of those conversations actually went. With the possible exception of the biscuit one," he added as an afterthought. "That was actually pretty accurate…"

All around the table, people were taking in this conversation with smiles on their faces. Mary was grinning broadly, and Gawain knew how she enjoyed seeing Potter light-hearted and happy. Kingsley was laughing particularly heartily, and Gawain suspected he was well aware that Potter was a particular favourite of Professor McGonagall.

Watching the pair of them laughing and teasing each other through lunch, Gawain marvelled at how Potter, saviour of the wizarding word could sit here and humbly allow his friend to tease him blatantly. And then he remembered he had done the same with Kingsley and Arthur two nights before. It showed a remarkable sense of humility for one who was largely regarded the hero of the wizarding world.

When Weasley and Potter excused themselves up to the drawing room to practice Transfiguration, Gawain found himself wondering if the fears he and Mary had discussed the morning before were unfounded. Potter seemed like a perfectly normal happy adjusted boy. Perhaps they were reading into things too far.

The following day passed similarly for the Gang. Weasley and Granger had come after lunch and the three of them had closeted themselves away in the drawing room to practice for the Charms practical exam.

The kitchen was in the midst of the usual pre-dinner hubbub when the trio finally emerged from the drawing room. They entered the kitchen joking and laughing amongst themselves just as the Gang were packing away their notes and casefiles for the evening.

The kitchen was alight with laughter and conversation this night. Amitra had enlisted the Bones boys to help cook dinner and let them pick the meal. They had chosen a pot roast and mashed potatoes. Edward, Gawain suspected, was sulking upstairs which lightened the mood in the kitchen considerably.

Amitra had only just remembered that Nayana and Sandeep were vegetarian. She was now rummaging through the pantry in a panic, apologising profusely and too busy to hear Nayana assuring her that the roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes would be plenty for them.

"Really. It's fine! I can whip up an onion gravy for the pair of us in no time. There's really no need to worry about us!" Nayana was saying as Amitra continued to apologise.

Gawain glanced to Potter and his friends who were just heading to the sink to wash their hands. "I hope you don't mind two more for dinner," Potter asked Amitra mildly, distracting her from her worries as Nayana began fine dicing some onions.

"Oh, of course not, loves," Amitra said shaking her head a little to clear it. "There's plenty to go around."

"It smells absolutely heavenly," Granger said kindly.

"Anything we can do to help?" asked Weasley. Gawain was under the impression the pair of them were very intentionally following Potter's lead in distracting her.

"Why don't you set the table? And the mashed potatoes can go over. And the gravy. Here, Harry love. Why don't you put this one on that side of the table so it doesn't get mixed up with the vegetarian one that Nayana is making." She shoved a large silver gravy boat into Potter's hands.

"How was the study session?" asked Kingsley as he took a stack of plates from Granger to help set the table.

"Good!" she replied cheerily. "We were practicing Atmospheric Charms and Ron had the whole room snowing; it was really quite lovely. Then we moved onto the Gemino Charm, and I think both Ron and Harry really have it down now. Still gives me the creeps a bit. I think it will forever make me think of Gringott's…"

"Ah! We can put you to work multiplying the newspaper every morning for us, then," Sandeep said good-naturedly to Potter. He was just passing behind Potter who was carrying the gravy boat down the table. He clapped Potter on the shoulder as he spoke.

It all happened very quickly. Sandeep's hand made contact with Potter's shoulder and instantaneously, the lad appeared to have instinctively dived for his right trousers pocket where Gawain was quite sure that his wand was situated. Simultaneously, he made to spin around, but he stumbled as his foot made contact with a chair, and he fell back against the table.

All heads turned sharply in the direction of the loud clang as the gravy boat met the floor, splattering gravy in all directions. Gawain blinked in shocked confusion. He was not alone. There was complete silence in the kitchen as every single pair of eyes was now fixed on Potter.

Potter was standing stock still, leaning back against the table and staring down at his right side where gravy dripped from the leg of his trousers. His entire right side was completely covered in gravy from the waist down. The hand that had been holding the gravy boat was hovering still over his wand pocket. And the gravy boat was now rocking back and forth where it had fallen at Potter's feet. The sound of it rocking echoed in the silence.

Everyone was staring at Potter completely shocked. Well not quite everyone.

After whipping his head around to check on Potter at the first sound, Weasley had now wiped his face determinedly blank and was casually looking around the room at absolutely anything other than Potter, clearly pretending he hadn't noticed a thing. Granger on the other hand, was staring at Potter with sadness in her eyes. But she too looked unsurprised.

"I… I'm so sorry," said Sandeep into the silence. "I didn't mean to startle you. Here, let me—" He made to pull out his wand to clean away the mess, but froze as Granger glanced at him, subtly holding up her hand and shaking her head to signal him not to approach. Then she turned back to Potter.

"Harry?" she asked, looking up into Potter's face. She was careful to stand close but not too close. Weasley meanwhile, now seemed very interested in a speck of imaginary dirt stuck under a fingernail.

Potter did not answer. He was still standing perfectly still save for some quick and ragged breaths. The gravy dripping down his side was now puddling on the floor. Gawain was not entirely sure if he understood what it was or how it had gotten there. Or indeed if he even knew it was there at all.

"Harry," Granger said again, gently but firmly when he did not respond or even acknowledge that he'd heard her. "Do you know where you are?"

Potter blinked then. He shot a quick glance in Granger's direction, then looked back down at his side. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good," he mumbled automatically. "Just slipped, is all…" he added in a small voice that convinced no one.

Gawain saw Weasley subtly roll his eyes to himself. A rueful smile flash across Grangers lips as though to a private joke that she thought better of voicing. But then she nodded gently.

Potter flicked his right wrist to dispel some of the gravy that was still dripping from his fingers. "I'm just, er… I'm gonna go change," he muttered. Still he did not meet anyone's eye.

"Sure, mate. Take your time," replied Weasley casually. Everyone in the room quietly watched Potter leave. No one pointed out that any one of them could have cleaned his clothes with a simple wave of a wand.

There was silence in the kitchen after he left. They all stood perfectly still, listening to Potter's footsteps retreat up the stairs. As soon as he was deemed out of earshot, however, Granger rounded on Weasely.

"Oh, yeah. He's obviously 'fine.'" Her voice was positively dripping with sarcasm.

"I never said he was 'fine,'" Weasley defended himself promptly. He had clearly been anticipating this attack. "I said he's 'managing.'"

Granger spluttered in disbelief and pointed in the direction Potter had just disappeared. "That's not managing, Ron. That's hanging on by a thread and hoping no one notices!"

"Oh, come off it! He literally died three months ago! Can you cut him some slack already?"

"Exactly!" snapped Granger back. "He died! He died, Ron. And he's scarcely said a word about it. It's been three months and not one word!"

"Just leave him be, Hermione," growled Weasley. Gawain had the distinct impression they had had this argument several times already.

"Like you've been doing, you mean? It's not working, Ron. He's just getting worse."

Kingsley was watching them uncomfortably, his head bouncing between the arguing couple and the door through which Potter had disappeared. He pulled himself to his feet and moved toward the door. "I'm gonna go check on him," he said in his soft low voice.

That got Granger and Weasley's attention. They turned sharply in Kingsley's direction. Anger slipped from their faces and was replaced by alarm.

"Kingsley!" Granger called him, sharply. When he turned to look at her, surprised by their sudden evident concern, Granger softened her tone. "While I would love for you to try to talk to him and all… You may want to wait... If you don't want your head snapped off, I mean."

"Trust us, mate. Hermione speaks from experience."

"Ah. I see," replied Kingsley, though he glanced back at the door uncertainly.

Weasley rolled his eyes. "You know, he probably wouldn't snap at you so much if you just left him alone from time to time," he added to Granger, resuming their argument.

Granger ignored him, looking to the ceiling with an expression as though she were praying for patience. Then she continued to address Kingsley. "Maybe this evening would be better." Still, she was looking at the Minister gratefully as though relieved at the prospect that she might not be the only one trying to talk to Potter. "He's slightly more… receptive… when you catch him a bit off-guard."

"And by 'receptive,' Hermione means he'll ignore you and then casually find an excuse to leave the room." Granger turned a stern you're-not-helping look on Weasely. "Okay okay, I'm sorry," said Weasley begrudgingly. "But the point is," he continued to Kingsley, "it's best to just let him go have his little panic attack or whatever in privacy. He really hates being called out on it. He'll come back in a bit and pretend like nothing happened. He always does." And then he turned and began piling mashed potatoes onto his plate as though this really was a very normal occurrence.

Kingsley was still standing uncertainly by the door. But then he sighed and returned to his seat reluctantly. Several other people also took their usual chairs and followed suit in helping themselves to food though there was a new awkwardness to the room. Amitra and the Amins resumed busying themselves making up a vegetarian gravy and Margaret and Ben were chatting with the Bones boys. This left Kingsley and Granger and Weasley seated together. Gawain left a chair next to Granger for Potter and seated himself too. Mary sat across from him, but he saw her eyes darting frequently between the door and Granger and Weasley as they bickered.

"I take it this isn't the first time something like this has happened," Gawain heard Kingsley ask Granger and Weasley. He looked sad and worried. As though this was confirming his worst fears.

Granger abruptly looked uncomfortable. She looked around the table, suddenly seeming to realise that they had been arguing quite loudly in a room full of strangers. Weasley met her eye and they exchanged a brief wordless conversation. Then Granger glanced back at Kingsley.

"How has he seemed to you," she asked, casually ignoring the previous question.

Kingsley shook his head a bit bemusedly and sighed. "I dunno… Every once in a while, I'll look over at him, and he just seems… like he's shut down. Like he's not even aware the rest of us are here. He's just lost somewhere in his head." All around the room, people were exchanging sad glances. Even those who did not know Potter well were beginning to recognise these moments.

Then Kingsley shrugged and continued more matter-of-factly. "But then other times he just seems like Harry, doesn't he? He's friendly and chatty and cracking jokes—"

Weasley snorted. "Careful," he said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Touchy subject. Hermione doesn't think Harry should have a sense of humour." He looked pointedly at Granger.

"I never said he shouldn't have a sense of humour!" Granger contradicted, glaring at Weasley. "He wouldn't be Harry if he didn't have a sense of humour."

"Exactly! He's Harry. He likes to have a laugh. It's his coping mechanism. I don't see why that's such a bad thing."

Granger sighed. "That would be fine if he were using it as a coping mechanism. But he's not. He's using it as an evasive technique."

Kingsley frowned. "How do you figure?"

She turned back to Kingsley. She glanced around the table again, evidently uncertain about discussing her friend in a room filled with so many people she knew so little. But at the same time, clearly wanting to discuss this with someone other than Weasley who had obviously heard it before and did not agree. She sighed, noting that most of the others were occupied. Gawain looked away and pretended he could not hear. His eyes instead met Mary's, and he knew she was doing the same. Then Granger abruptly seemed to make up her mind, and she began speaking very fast, scarcely drawing breath, all hint of uncertainly gone.

"He's Harry, right? So you're having a conversation, and he's being all 'Harry'— friendly and chatty as you put it. And then maybe you mention something about say… oh, I don't know… anything at all that happened to him in the past year, really. He doesn't want to talk about it— because that would actually mean processing some sort of human emotion, and heaven forbid he do that. So what does he do? He cracks a joke. And then everybody laughs because he's Harry Potter, and isn't he sooo funny and clever? And then while everyone is busy laughing and distracted, he casually changes the subject or comes up with an excuse to leave the room."

Kingsley was silent as he processed this diatribe. Gawain couldn't help but glance his way to gauge his expression, and he saw Granger noting that he and Mary were listening. She looked between them all, waiting for anyone to argue. But no one did. On the contrary, Gawain suspected he was not the only one suddenly looking at Potter's loquacious mealtime conversations in a new light.

"Ha!" cried Granger after a moment of silence, rounding on Weasley. "You see? They all know I'm right!" Weasley muttered something under his breath that Gawain could not make out.

Kingsley was looking more and more anxious by the minute. "He has… he has spoken some though… hasn't he? About what he went through this past year?"

Granger shrugged. "What, like that Wizengamot hearing?" she said a little sarcastically. "I read the transcript. All facts without a single drop of emotion."

Kingsley opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly trying to think of a time Potter had actually talked about any sort of feelings he'd had towards the past year. Gawain too was racking his memory. All he could think of was the incident with Maxim Bones in the kitchen right after he woke up; Gawain was quite sure he only spoke of that out of an altruistic desire to help Maxim, not because he wanted to for himself.

Granger watched Kingsley with sad understanding as he quietly thought, a frown on his face. "I think things moved so fast… he never really had much time to process much of anything before something else terrible would happen. I don't think he ever really even processed Dumbledore's death properly, for example."

"Further back than that," Weasley weighed in around another mouthful. "Sirius, at least. If not Diggory."

Granger nodded. "That's true. Sirius is still definitely still a trigger… Remember when he snapped about—" She glanced around the room again, cutting off whatever she had been about to say to Weasley. "Well, anyway…"

"I… I think I've unintentionally triggered him a few times," Mary weighed-in hesitantly, dropping all pretence that she wasn't listening. Her desperation to better understand overcoming her hesitancy to invade Potter's privacy. "I'd love to better understand what I've said wrong… It seems like he doesn't much like to think about his mum? When I've mentioned her…" She trailed off uncertainly.

"He told to us that you knew his mum and dad…" Granger seemed to consider Mary for a bit frowning and Weasley looked rather nonplussed. Gawain thought Mary's status as a Healer made Granger a little easier about discussing Potter with her. A little. But not much.

"Dunno why that would be, really," said Weasley, glancing at Granger. "He used to talk about his mum and dad with Sirius all the time…"

"That was a bit of a weird comment, wasn't it," Kingsley said, glancing to Mary. "The other night. About having memories of his mum he'd rather forget? I was wondering about that too." Granger looked at him sharply, then turned away just as quickly.

"Oh..." said Weasley. "Well, I know that's what he hears when the Dementors get near. You-Know-Who murdering his mum." This seemed to cause Mary physical pain to hear. "So I suppose maybe—" Weasley cut off abruptly, frowning at Granger. "You know something," he accused her.

Gawain too glanced at Granger. She was abruptly looking very uncomfortable. She licked her lips and seemed to be struggling not to meet Weasley's eye. "What do you know?" Weasley demanded.

Granger sighed and looked to the ceiling to avoid anyone's gaze, wringing her hands under the table. "I think… I don't think that's exactly what he meant… He… He remembers that night… from a different perspective…" She looked at Weasley, waiting for him to understand something, but what Gawain had no idea.

Kingsley frowned and asked what Gawain very much wanted to know. "What do you mean?"

Granger seemed to be growing more disquieted by the minute, not at all sure she should be saying any of this. "He… he remembers doing it. Killing them." She looked hesitantly at Kingsley to see if he understood. It seemed that he did because a horrified expression passed behind his eyes. Gawain had absolutely no idea what that meant, however, and Mary looked just as confused.

"When?" Weasley's voice was hard.

Granger licked her lips again. She seemed to not be able to quite meet his gaze. "While you were gone… Christmas. After Godric's Hollow."

"You never told me. Neither of you told me," his tone was accusatory.

"I didn't think it was my place to tell you!" Granger defended herself. Still Gawain was quite at a loss as to what was happening. But Kingsley was staring at the table top, lost in a thought. Lost in a particularly unpleasant thought. "When he came round… He made it pretty clear he didn't want to talk about it. And I respected that. But I thought eventually he would open up. That he would tell you himself. But I dunno… it's been over half a year, and he still hasn't mentioned it once."

"I'm sorry…" Mary cut in. "But I don't understand...?"

Granger sighed. "Harry and… and Voldemort. They… they shared a strange sort of bond. Sometimes, Harry would get sort of… trapped in Voldemort's mind. He would see things Voldemort was doing or… or remembering. Experience them as though he was the one doing them. It was… always a very painful experience for Harry. Both physically and emotionally."

Gradually, a look of horrified understanding began to cross Mary's face as she listened to this. But Granger continued to the end. "He remembers that night as though he were Voldemort. He remembers murdering his own parents in cold blood. Trying to kill himself as a baby." She paused for a moment as this terrible thought sunk in. There was silence around the table. She looked down at her lap. "He laughed while he did it," she said in a very small voice.

After a moment of quiet as everyone processed this terrible piece of information, Granger licked his lips and continued. "Sometimes, I think… he almost gets confused... About what was him and what was Voldemort. Sometimes he feels guilt for things that Voldemort did like he did them himself."

"Like with Dad and the snake," Weasley muttered.

Granger nodded to him sadly. She continued, directing her words more toward Weasley again. "This time. After Godric's Hollow. It was the worst I've ever seen it. He… He was quite… ill. He got sort of… stuck… in Voldemort's mind. He was gone for hours. There… For a bit there, I was scared he wasn't going to come back. I was scared I… I would be alone."

There was silence as they took this in. Weasley looked angry. Gawain did not entirely understand this emotion. All he felt was a profound sadness. But with Weasley's next words, he understood that this emotion was directed inward. "I should never have left you. I should never have left either of you."

"Hey," said Granger softly, bracingly. "It's in the past." She reached out and took his hand. "And Harry forgave you the second you came back." Then, after a pause, she added, her cheek twitching in a sad smile, "Admittedly took me a little longer than that…"

Weasley snorted. "Oh, believe me. I remember." Granger gave him a sheepish smile, and they shared a quiet moment, staring at each other hand in hand before turning back to their food.

"Anyway. I really shouldn't be saying any of this," Granger continued after a moment. "He'd probably be furious…" She pushed the food around on her plate. "And there are some good times. Sometimes he seems almost back to normal here and there. I am comforted that he's actually showing an interest in studying for the NEWTs."

"Only you would find comfort in studying," Weasley muttered.

"It shows he actually has some interest in the future, Ron. In a career. That's a big deal. It matters to me if my best friend is too depressed to make plans for the future. And it should matter to you too. But at least now… He wouldn't be bothering with the test if he didn't have some sort of plan…"

"He hasn't said anything to you about what he's planning to do next?" Kingsley asked, his eyes still full of sadness. The rest of the room were starting to seat themselves and help themselves to dinner and they gradually seemed to notice the mood of the conversation at the far end of the table as they did so.

Granger and Weasley shook their heads. "He used to want to be an Auror… but I haven't heard him mention that in ages. And now we're sort of afraid to ask," Weasley said wryly.

"Everyone is asking him, and it's driving him mad," Granger clarified. "I mean, it's only natural that people should wonder. But from Harry's perspective…"

"Reckon he thinks he peaked too soon," commented Weasley. "I mean, how do you top doing in the most evil Dark wizard of all time at seventeen?"

Granger abruptly glanced over her shoulder toward the door. "I think I hear him coming back."

Weasley nodded. "Well everyone. Enjoy your front row tickets to the greatest theatrical event of the season: Harry Potter Pretends that Everything is Fine." He snickered a little at his own joke. Granger managed to give him a withering look before a smile she clearly didn't want to display crossed her lips. She shook her head exasperatedly. No one else laughed.

Sure enough, a moment later, Potter opened the door, now dressed in a clean set of clothes. He marched across the room to his chair with a determinedly confident stride. Taking his seat, he reached to help himself to the pot roast.

"This looks amazing, Mrs Jenkyns," he commented to Amitra as Weasley passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"Everything's delicious," Granger agreed. "Thanks again for letting us stay for dinner. I usually don't much fancy Brussels sprouts… When my mum makes them they're always a bit mushy. But these are great."

Taking her cue from Granger, Amitra carried on the conversation, though something in her face and tone made Gawain feel her heart wasn't quite in it anymore. "The trick is not to be afraid of high heat. And I add a little brown sugar to counteract the bitterness."

"Mrs. Amin has offered to teach me to cook a few Indian dishes," Potter commented to Granger and Weasley.

"Oh, lord," said Granger smiling. "Did you warn her about what she was getting herself into before she volunteered?"

Weasley snickered. "That's really brave of you. He really is terrible," he informed Nayana. "You sure you want to take that on? Not sure he's ever even managed to boil a pot of spaghetti."

"Oh, you're one to talk!" Potter challenged, laughing.

It was as though their previous conversation had not occurred. And just like that, as Gawain watched the three friends laughing and teasing each other, Gawain realised that Potter was not the only one who was something of an actor.

When Weasley and Granger took their leave that evening, Gawain noticed Granger and Kingsley sharing a quick silent conversation. And when Potter excused himself back to the drawing room to do a little more Charms work, Kingsley followed after hastily.

The next day, Gawain couldn't help but notice the awkwardness between Potter and Kingsley. Potter seemed unable to meet Kingsley's eye and Kingsley kept shooting worried glances toward Potter. The boy was quick to barricade himself into his drawing room potions lab after breakfast, and they did not see him for much of the day. Gawain rather speculated that whatever conversation Kingsley had managed with him the night before had been something less than rewarding for either of them.

Come lunch time, Potter did not come down. Gawain ate quickly himself and headed upstairs for a little time away from work before the Gang was due to meet in the afternoon to discuss some of the week's upcoming cases as a group. No one challenged that it was Saturday. Days of the week meant little, and they were all rather grateful for something to keep them busy. Still, Gawain felt the need for a little time for self-reflection.

His introversion time upstairs was something less than restful, however, as Ella had decided this was an excellent time to make a card castle with Potter's Exploding Snap deck on her bed. He entered the bedroom to find she had nearly set the comforter ablaze. As it was, he wasn't feeling particularly sorry to leave Mary to lecture Ella on responsible decisions, as he headed back down to the kitchen at two o'clock.

He ran into Ben on the stairs and the pair of them went down together. Ben was chatting, but Gawain's mind was not in it. After a few failed attempts at conversation, Ben at last gave up and they continued down in companionable silence. Gawain noticed the door to the drawing room was now open, but there was no sight of Potter when he glanced in. Perhaps he had at last caved to hunger and gone down to the kitchen in search of a snack.

They passed through the entrance hall and turned down the short flight of stairs that led down to the basement kitchen. And there, just outside the kitchen door, was Margaret.

"Hey, Margaret!" called Ben, though Gawain was grateful he remembered to keep his voice down so as not to wake up the portrait of Mrs. Black.

Margaret, in turn, jumped a good foot in the air and whirled around. Her one good eye was wide in alarm, and Gawain could not help the immediate suspicion.

"—If you could just ask him…" Kingsley's voice was floating out from under the kitchen door as they crossed the final steps to Margaret. Gawain eyed her; she licked her lips and looked away awkwardly.

There was a moment's silence from the kitchen then Potter's voice floated out to them too. "No, Kingsley. I can't ask him that."

Gawain looked back to Margaret, about to challenge her as to why she was listening at doors, when the next words made him too suddenly far too curious to reveal their presence.

"Harry, I know it's not something you want to think about. Honestly, this whole mess has been torture, speculating where the leak is. But you have to consider… He's had access to every member of the Gang. And I have no doubt he's capable of it all. And Harry… You and I both know he's betrayed us before…"

"And that's exactly why I can't ask him." Potter's voice was hard and unyielding. "He's changed. He has proven himself to me since then. He deserves a second chance, Kingsley. We all do."

Gawain couldn't help it. They were speculating about the traitor. Kingsley suspected someone. But from the conversation, Gawain could not tell who. He paused to listen.

"Harry. You're the only one… He would never be able to lie to you. If any of the rest of us were to ask him—"

"Then don't ask him," Potter cut off whatever Kingsley had been about to say. "It's not him. I trust him, Kingsley. Leave him be. He's been through enough."

"Harry… I have to be thinking these things. I have to be questioning anyone who has had the means and opportunity. And his history is against him."

"I've had means and opportunity. Are you questioning me?"

"That's hardly the same…"

"I think it is. I've been to enough of the Gang meetings. Could have cast that Trace at any point. And who would suspect Harry Potter? Hell, maybe I'm not even Harry Potter. Maybe I really did die in the Forbidden Forest. Maybe you've been dealing with an imposter all this time."

"Harry…"

"Or maybe it's Hermione. She showed up in the middle of a meeting at one point early on. She's been in and out of Grimmauld Place since then. She's clever enough, isn't she? No doubt in my mind she could have managed it."

Gawain heard a sigh. "I'm not trying to offend you…"

"Or maybe Mr. Weasley is the mastermind," Potter continued his rant. Then he stopped abruptly. There was silence for a second and Gawain imagined Potter reading Kingsley's expression and not being particularly happy about what he saw, because his next words were, "Bloody hell, Kingsley! You can't be serious."

"I have to consider all of the possibilities. Even if it hurts. Someone betrayed us. Maybe they did it of their own free will. Maybe they were coerced. But no matter who it turns out to be, I'm not going to like it."

"But Mr. Weasley, Kingsley!"

"I have to consider the possibility," Kingsley repeated, though Gawain heard shame in his voice.

"Well, I don't!" snapped Potter. "I'm sick of it. All of it."

"Harry, people have died. No matter how sick of it we may be, it doesn't change the facts."

"No. No, I'm done with this. All of it. You think I don't know that people have died? You think I'm unfamiliar with betrayal? You think I've forgotten what happened to my parents when they put their trust in the wrong person? You think I don't remember the feeling when I looked up after coming back from the graveyard and Mad-Eye was holding a wand on me? You think I didn't feel it when I heard Dumbledore—" He broke off a moment, and Gawain heard someone take a deep calming breath. "Believe me. I am far more familiar with betrayal than I want to be.

"But I can't live the rest of my life like this, Kingsley. Constantly questioning the people I care about. People I love. I spent the past seven years mistrusting Snape, and that act could have ruined everything. If things had gone differently, that mistrust could have killed us all. I'm not doing it again."

There was silence in the kitchen as Kingsley took this in. When he didn't reply, Potter continued. "I'm done Kingsley. I refuse to ask him that question. It would be a betrayal of the trust we've built together and it wouldn't change a damn thing. Because it's not him. No more than it's Hermione or Mr. Weasely or myself. So look to your own people and leave off mine."

Too late, Ben, Margaret, and Gawain realised that heavy footsteps were moving in their direction. The kitchen door was wrenched open. All three of them jumped as Potter stood, staring at them, his face hard.

The boy then turned and looked directly in Kingsley's eyes. "Yeah," said Potter, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "It's obviously my people who can't be trusted." Gawain and the others shuffled, ashamed at being caught eavesdropping. But Potter spared them no further glance. He pushed between Margaret and Gawain and was off up the stairs.

"Harry," Kingsley called after him tiredly. "That's not what I said…"

"Piss off!" called back Potter angrily. Then he cursed as Mrs. Black began screaming about blood-traitors and trespassers.

Kingsley sighed. Then he looked to Margaret, Ben, and Gawain, one by one. "Thanks, you lot," he said wryly. "Very helpful."

"Who were you talking about," Margaret asked, making no show to conceal that she had been eavesdropping.

Kingsley sighed again. "Never you mind."

"You suspect someone," Ben weighed in insistently. "Someone who's betrayed you before—"

"This doesn't concern you, Ben," Kingsley snapped, most uncharacteristically impatient.

"I reckon it does concern me. I reckon it concerns all of us. We have the right to know if—"

"Let it go, Ben!"

A/N (11.11.2021): I found myself craving some wholesome Ron and Hermione moments; I've been missing them. I hope they didn't feel too out of character. I've really been wanting to explore their worry for Harry more, but it's definitely hard to write much of that when I'm stuck within the confines of third person limited. I did worry that Ron and Hermione would never actually speak this freely about Harry in front of people they don't know well. But in the end, my desire for Gawain and Mary to hear their concerns won out. So I hope you can forgive their (or rather my) indiscretion. I'm definitely questioning if ever again I will try to tell an entire novel from one character's perspective. It's seriously hard!

In a (very slightly) related topic, if anyone is curious to read my take on Hermione's experience while Harry was out after the Godric's Hollow incident in DH, I wrote up a companion one-shot for her. It's posted in my Left Behind series. Go check it out!

As always, a thousand thanks to all my reviewers. Especially those who dropped me some encouragement after my recent stint with writer's block. And thank you to those who took the time to read some of my other's stories while waiting. It's so very touching whenever I recognise a screen name reviewing one of my other fics. You lot are the best. As of this chapter, this story is now my longest fic I've ever written, which is kinda cool.